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spooky-holtz · 4 months

Text

Kelly Green

Melissa Schemmenti x reader

Genre: fluff, some VERY suggestive language, alludes heavily to smut

Word Count: 2.3k

Prompt: "mel x reader where they’re dating and the r keeps stealing mel’s eagles sweatshirt and one day mel finds the reader all curled up on the couch sleeping with the sweater on.."

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“Honey?” You hear Melissa call in your shared bedroom from where you sit at the bathroom vanity that was once just hers. The products that litter the surface are a mix of both of yours; Melissa’s various pens and bottles sitting on one side, neatly tucked into a makeup back, your own strewn across the surface as you try to prepare yourself for the day ahead, “Have you seen my lucky sweatshirt anywhere?”

You know exactly the one she’s talking about. It’s game day so there is only one item of clothing she will wear and it’s her relic of a sweatshirt. The heather grey material is a little discolored and frayed around the edges from years of constant use and the green print that displays the Eagles logo across the front is cracked beyond belief, making it nearly impossible to read the Kelly green font.

“Babe?” She calls again, “Are you even listening?” The slight panic in her voice is evident as you realize you haven’t actually answered her yet. You stare back at your reflection in the mirror from the padded stool on which you sit, hair curled and makeup half-applied after your shower, Melissa’s silk robe you grabbed from its hook on the back of the door currently resting on your shoulders and tied loosely around your waist.

You sigh as you realize you should probably go and help the redhead and rise from your seat, anticipating the level of stress you’ll no doubt find her in.

When you cross the threshold from cold tiled flooring to the soft carpet of the bedroom, you immediately find Melissa torso deep in the chest of drawers that holds most of her clothing. She hasn’t even noticed you yet, the entire top half of her body nearly submerged in the sea of shirts as she rummages through them frantically. You can hear her mumbling something about “that goddamn sweater” as she digs through the drawer, your presence unnoticed.

You don’t want to get too close to the scene, knowing that you could get hit by one of the sweater-turned-projectiles that your dear wife is currently throwing halfway across the room, not bothering to look back and see where they land. Instead, you choose to lean back against the doorway from which you just entered and admire the view of Melissa bending over in the tightest pair of leather pants she owns. Game day has its advantages, and every single one of them are those pants. You decide to finally put her out of her misery and break the silence.

“You know it’s not going to be in there, right?” The sound of your voice immediately catches her attention, and she jumps, caught off guard by the intrusion and nearly hitting her head on the drawer above her head that sits ajar above the current focus of her attention. “The last game day was literally a week ago, so it’s probably folded up by the dryer somewhere downstairs.”

In reality you know it’s not anywhere near the dryer; it’s in your own chest of drawers that Melissa doesn’t dare to touch. She can’t know that you’ve taken it, especially not now when she’s this far into what is coming close to a nervous breakdown.

You didn’t even mean for it to take up residence among the rest of your clothing. It just happened last weekend when Melissa was out shopping and lunching with Barbara and you quite simply missed her, choosing to curl up in the sweater that she’s worn since long before you met. It just never found its way back to its rightful home and is now tucked away safely among your countless band t-shirts on the other side of the bedroom.

After what feels like an eternity of watching your wife rifling through her own clothing, she finally stands from her crouched position, grumbling about her knees and gripping the edge of the cabinet, and turns to meet you.

“How about I check the dryer for you, hm?” You ask as she turns slowly, her stiff muscles making it difficult to do so quickly. The stress in her features is evident, the crease between her eyebrows prominent from her furrowed brow. Her face softens as she meets your eye-line from where you rest against the door from, arms folded and head leaning against the wood.

“I’ve already checked, it’s definitely not there,” she replied, taking a few steps closer to where you stand. As she moves you can’t help but notice her eyes dipping down your frame, taking in your form. Her expression has gone from stressed, soft, to starving in seconds. “You know, I never even noticed that this is what you looked like right now.”

She’s crossed the room already and stands in front of you, arms reaching out to wrap around your waist and bring you away from the door frame, toward her. Your own arms unfold and lace themselves around her neck, her red curls brushing against your wrists as you move. You scratch at the nape of her neck lightly, knowing that it calms her even in her most tumultuous of moments.

“I haven’t even put my eyelashes on yet,” you huff. “I’m literally nowhere near ready.”

Her eyes dip down again, your own following her gaze to see exactly what she finds so interesting. She wraps her arms tighter around you, bringing your body impossibly closer to her own. Her hands dip lower, brushing against the small of your back, bunching your robe and holding you in place.

“You know, that isn’t a bad thing at all.” You can hear the smirk in her voice and your suspicions are confirmed when you look up and see that all too familiar expression laced across her features. Her dimples are deepened by the quirk of her lip, her eyebrow raised almost as if in a challenge. Your eyes dip down to her lips just as her tongue darts out to lick her bottom lip, coated with sticky pink shimmering gloss. When you look back up again you know you’ve been caught.

You feel the heat rise up your neck, covering your chest in a pink blush. Even after all this time, Melissa’s flirting still makes you feel like a teenager. You can feel her subtly maneuver your body so that your back rests against the painted wall and not the sharp doorframe, narrowly missing the large wooden picture frame that protects an image of the Philly skyline.

You know she’s proud of herself and the flustered state she’s got you in. Her lips haven’t even touched your own yet and you’re already putty in her hands, the task at hand completely forgotten. You feel her press into you, pushing you further into the wall, her leg coming to rest between your own.

Her hands still hold your waist, keeping you in place and precisely where she wants you. The contact burns through your robe, the same way her eyes burn holes into your skin. When her eyes meet yours, you can see how dark they’ve become, the emerald green almost unrecognizable from the blown nature of her pupils. Her one hand leaves the comfort of your waist and instead trails up your body to rest at your jaw, her thumb coming to rest on your bottom lip.

“You know, we’ve still got some time,” she says lowly, her eyebrow arched again. She knows you can never say no to her, especially when she looks as delicious as she does right now. The combination of her tight pants and buttoned plaid shirt makes your head spin, the sleeves rolled up to her elbows and buttons undone slightly so you can see the smooth expanse of milky skin beneath. Her gaze runs down your body again and you feel yourself shiver under her scrutiny, goosebumps instantly appearing where her eyes follow. She leans closer, pressing her lips to your rosy cheek. “What do you say, pretty girl?”

“My eyes are up here,” you whisper, the words catching in your throat as she presses her lips to your neck, using the hand on your jaw to keep you still and precisely where she wants you. You can feel the tackiness of her lips as they press into your skin, moving their way up toward your ear. Melissa’s breathing has gotten heavier, and you know there must be a trail of pink across your skin from the redhead’s attack.

“I know,” she breathes into your ear, her deepened voice making your knees weaken. “Can’t I admire my beautiful wife?” She asks. You can hear the smirk in her voice and feel it where her lips press into your jaw, immediately giving her intentions away, as if the thigh pressing into the heat between your legs and the fist she has burrowed into the back of your robe doesn’t already. That same hand snakes its way around your waist, your wife pulling you impossibly closer as she continues to melt your hard exterior and quickly make use of what little time you have left.

She uses the positioning to her advantage by sliding her hand around your thigh and lifting, bringing her even closer to your core. The sudden movement causes you to gasp, and her smirk only intensifies against your neck, turning into a full-blown shit-eating grin. You wrap your leg around her waist from where you stand, not letting her move away any time soon.

She pulls her head back to look into your eyes, the green entirely replaced by her black pupils. Her lipgloss has smudged past the edge of her lips, almost matching the rosy hue of her cheeks, and her hair is mussed from where your hands have been buried within her red locks. This is one of your favourite versions of Melissa. She’s clearly hungry for whatever you can give.

“How long do ya think we’ve got before Janine panics over us not being at the bar?” she asks, eyes trained on the pink glittery trail she’s left across your jaw. She’ll have to help you reapply your make-up later.

“Probably an hour?” You respond, following her eyeliner as she admires her work, “But it’s never going to take that long, let’s be real.”

Your words cause her eyes to snap up to meet yours, her mouth breaking into an instant grin, the lines around her eyes growing deeper at her joy.

“I say we test your theory,” she says seconds before she spins you, leading you backward toward your bed.

That was three weeks ago and she had all but forgotten about her sweater, her thoughts preoccupied with the other more important issues at hand. That was until she had walked back into your home one evening after her usual Saturday afternoon lunch with her Nonna. You would usually attend these lunches, finding the older Sicilian woman’s takes on the world incredibly entertaining but a week of testing means that you were far too behind on grading.

When Melissa closes the heavy wooden door to your home, her belly and heart full, she can’t help but notice the eerie quietness. The usual music is playing from the radio on the kitchen counter, but instead of blasting some cheesy pop song that Melissa loves to pretend to hate she’s greeted by the dulcet tones of Carly Simon’s subdued crooning.

She makes her way across the wooden floor, stepping carefully so her high-heeled boots can’t make the usual cracking noise with each step. When she rounds the corner into the living room, she is greeted by the dim light of a candle that has nearly reached the end of its wick, the sickly sweet scent of vanilla filling the room. She can see where you sit on the couch, the top of your head where a hastily thrown up bun sits giving away your location. You clearly haven’t noticed her presence yet, not moving at the noise of her walking closer.

When she rounds the side of the sofa, Melissa can see that you’re not in fact hard at work but have evidently fallen asleep mid-grading. Your legs are a tangled mess where they rest along the length of the sofa, the plastic that protected the material had been removed long ago when you moved in with the red head, your relationship still fairly new but clearly thriving.

Your head rests against the cushion of the sofa behind you, pen still in hand and paper discarded where it lays in your lap. Melissa can’t help but laugh lightly, thinking about just how many times she’s managed to find you in this exact position over the years. Your fluffy socks and bright red plaid pyjama pants are the image of comfort, she thinks, as she takes in the sight of you- wait a second, is that her Eagles sweater? The sight makes her jaw fall open in disbelief and everything clicks into place.

The subject changes whenever it was brought up in conversation suddenly make so much sense to her now. She can’t help but chuckle and shake her head slightly, impressed that you had managed to misdirect her for so long but so enamoured that you could do all that just for a sweater. She would have let you wear it if you had asked, but she thinks it’s probably better to make you feel the achievement of swindling her out of her favourite item of clothing.

Her heart feels impossibly full as she looks down at you where you rest, glass askew on your face and soft snores filling the room. Even if the losing streak the Eagles endured at the end of the season are a result of Melissa not wearing her sweater on game days, she would take the losses a million times over if it meant she could come home to this sight every evening.

#writing #lisa ann walter #abbott elementary #fluff #reader fanfic #reader fic #self insert #wlw #abbott elementary fanfic #melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti fic #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti self insert #melissa schemmenti x y/n #lisa ann walter fic #lisa ann walter x reader

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thefabulous-mostgroovy · 2 months

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Beautiful Boy

"You're sure you want to do this?" he asks, softening his voice. Jon nods.

"I... I think it'll be good for me."

That's all Martin needs to hear.

(art included!)

Jon/Martin, 1.7k words, rated Gen, read on AO3. this is for day 3 of @jonmartinweek for the prompt Hair Care!!

Martin truly thinks he's an absolute genius for using one of Jon's hair clips to keep the towel in place. Jon snickers a little at his chuffed face in the mirror, holding the other end of the towel up with his hands in front of him.

"Don't laugh," Martin tuts. "Or I'll give you a bad haircut.

"I don't know if a buzz cut is possible to mess up," Jon says. Even joking, he sounds a little nervous. His eyes dart from his own reflection to the scissors in Martin's hands, and back again. Martin plants a kiss in his hair.

"You're sure you want to do this?" he asks, softening his voice. Jon nods.

"I... I think it'll be good for me."

That's all Martin needs to hear.

They've gone over his decision a few times. First of all, the long hair has gotten a bit annoying. It blows in his face, especially in the Highland winds. It's a pain to maintain. But, mostly, it has too many negative memories attached. The only reason it's as long as it is, is he's been too tired and stressed and scared to go outside to get a proper haircut. He didn't grow it out, it got out of control. Just another thing he couldn't fix, couldn't get a handle on. Not to mention the fairly recent fear of strangers welding blade near his throat. Chopping it all off is about as good of a fresh start as Jon is going to get right now.

He remembers Jon's hair when they first met. It had been a bit long, even for how short he used to keep it. He kept it loosely pushed out of his face, but it fell in loose waves over his face whenever he was concentrating on anything else. Martin was never able to pay attention to the day's to-do's because he was always too busy watching Jon's hands run through his own hair, flipping it out of his face, the grey strands at his temples revealing themselves when he combed it back.

Despite his scruffy, ill-fitting suit jackets and trousers, his hair always fell perfectly with seemingly very little effort. Martin has curly hair himself, and he's never been one to get jealous over someone else's hair, but he really thought that's what he felt about Jon in the early days.

(It was not jealousy. He was just completely arse over kettle for his boss. But, can you blame him? Jon might be the prettiest man Martin has ever met.)

After Prentiss, Jon let his hair grow out a bit more. Well, let is a strong word. More like, he neglected in getting a haircut as his paranoia grew and grew. It reached his shoulders in just a few months, and Jon had taken up keeping it tied back in these large clips that's currently holding up the towel that will catch all that hair when Martin shears it off.

Martin remembers being quite surprised at how long his hair had gotten when he returned from his brief stint of running from the police. It was hanging in loose strings over his shoulders, like it hadn't been very well taken care of. Part of him had wanted to sit Jon down and detangle the nest residing on his head. Maybe give it a good wash.

The next time he saw Jon, it was with his hair in a braid. Or, an attempt at a braid. It was a bit more like a series of knots, a bit lopsided and kind of falling out. In his week-long shock at the fact that his boss was not, in fact, just a creepy middle aged man who was way too into administrative work, but an evil eldritch monster who is still way too into administrative work, he told Jon this. While he waited for Jon's tea to steep, he turned around and told him, 'Hey, your braid's a mess. Want me to fix it?'

To his everlasting surprise, Jon said yes.

With shaking hands and a beet red face, Martin had sat behind Jon on the couch, and carefully brushed Jon's hair through with his fingers. His hair looked healthy, like it had been recently washed, and smelled of coconut and bergamot. There was a lot more grey in it than when he first met Jon (but not as much as there is now).

Jon had sighed and closed his eyes, tilting his head back as Martin had brushed his hair back. He had wanted so badly to run his nails over his scalp, and he just barely restrained himself from doing so. His hair was soft under his hands, and it bounced back into shape when his fingers ran through the ends.

Actually putting the plait in was easy. Martin fell victim to being a girl's Gay Best Friend while he was still in high school, which is never all that great, but he did actually enjoy styling her hair. It came to him as muscle memory, twisting the three sections around each other, careful not to pull or tug by accident. He kept it fairly loose to not give Jon a tension headache, and the shape of his curls were still visible as they flowed into the braid.

After tying it off, Jon had gotten a bit stuttery and smiley, tucking the shorter strands that fell over his face behind his ears, and Martin had practically short circuited and fled the room.

Jon never got around to properly cutting his hair, even as it reached further and further down his back. After Daisy, he could never let anyone near him with a blade without falling into panic. So, he simply put up with the choppy cuts from cutting the dead ends off with a pair of kitchen scissors. It was good enough for him, apparently. And he never had to let any strangers near his neck.

Martin can't help but feel a little pride at the fact that Jon is allowing him to do this. Sure, he's screwing his eyes shut and bordering on holding his breath, but Jon is letting him do this in the first place.

"I'm gonna start now," Martin warns him. Jon hums and nods minutely, and Martin gathers some hair in his hands. He gives him another moment to change his mind, then makes the first cut.

He starts near his nape, moving along in as straight a line as he can manage. He cringes a little at the slope he creates—he somehow manages to cut a bar graph into Jon's ends—but it doesn't matter. He drops the cut strands into the bin below him, not bothering with the bits that stick to the towel. His hair goes from ending at his mid-back, to... whatever Martin has managed to make. It sits in an odd, blunt bob, just above his shoulders. When Martin sets the scissors down for a moment, stretching his hands, Jon's shoulder slump and relax, and reveals that Martin has actually cut much further than he thought.

"You look like Lord Farquaad," Martin snickers as Jon opens his eyes. They glow green for just a second, and Jon gasps in offence, then laughs.

"So mean to me," he bemoans. "Why must I face such treatment? Go to jail."

"If I go to jail, I can't do the rest of your hair, m'Lord." Martin picks the scissors back up, ready to cut more off before going with the razor. Jon closes his eyes again.

"I'll just visit you in jail," Jon says, seeming much more relaxed now that the first shock is over. "Give you a spoon to dig your way out."

"I'll Shawshank Redemption my way out of there," Martin promises as he cuts shorter and shorter. "Come back with scissors and a vengeance."

Jon laughs quietly. After another few minutes, Martin has gotten his hair into a rather shaggy short cut. It looks awful.

"Okay, I'm gonna plug in the razor, don't look at your hair."

"Why not?" Jon immediately opens his eyes and starts to laugh at the sight.

"Don't look!" Martin splutters, scandalised.

"I look like I got attacked by Edward Scissorhands!" Jon cackles, running a hand through the choppy sections.

"I'll fix it, just hold bloody still," Martin grumbles, face red. Even through the buzzing of the razor, he can hear and see Jon humming with giggles. He never could have guessed that Jon's favourite hobby, should they ever have actually started dating, would be winding Martin up at every opportunity.

He starts, again, at the neck and works his way up. His grey hair sits in patches through the black, buzzed hair. Martin wouldn't tell him, but it makes him look like a spotted cat. The hair falls into the towel above Jon's lap, onto the floor. Once Martin is done, and it looks a relatively even length, he turns the clippers off, and kisses the top of Jon's head.

"All finished," he says softly.

Jon opens his eyes and stares at the mirror. He runs a hand over his head, tilting it to the side a little. Martin, to busy his nervous hands, removes the hair clip from the towels and gathers it up with the pile of hair in it.

"Do..." Martin tries to act and sound casual. He does not. "Do you like it?"

"Yeah," Jon says, and finally smiles. There are pinprick tears in his eyes. "I do. I really do."

Martin kisses the top of his head again, running his hand over his hair. The short strands are still soft, but sliding his hand up the opposite direction leaves his palm a little scratchy. Jon doesn't stand, but he reaches up and pulls Martin down into a proper kiss.

"I love you," he whispers on Martin's lips.

"I love you, too," Martin whispers back. He brushes some of the stray hairs that somehow found their way onto Jon's jumper before he kisses him again.

That night, in bed, Martin strokes his hand back and forth over Jon's hair while he sleeps, tucked under Martin's chin. It feels nice. Different.

And Jon is still the prettiest man that Martin has ever met.

#tma #the magnus archives #jonmartin #jmart #jonmartin week 2024 #jmart fanfic #jmart fanart

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sourlove · 1 month

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My Mistake ~ YANDERE TODOROKI SHOTO

TW: KIDNAPPING (REGRETFULLY), DELUSION, BLACKMAIL, IMPLIED MURDER, IMPLIED VIOLENCE, MENTIONS OF MAFIA AND GANG ACTIVITIES

A/N: THIS WAS INSPIRED BY A 'REVERSE TROPE WRITING PROMPT' ORIGINALLY CREATED BY @out-of-jams

"Listen, I know this might seem sudden, but I have to get this off my chest. I think I've fallen in love with you."

Slowly, you turn to face owner of the heterochromatic eyes gazing up at you. From where he was tied up. On a chair. In your basement.

"...come again?"

The man you had just kidnapped, with the intent of holding for ransom, blushed. "I think- no, I know I've fallen in love with you."

You smiled faintly, emphasis on 'faint' because there was nothing you wanted to do more than pass out and wake up from this nightmare. Todoroki Shoto was nothing but a spoiled, rich kid on paper. Sure, his father had significant power but that also meant you could charge much more for his release when you kidnapped him.

Unfortunately, hindsight was a coldhearted bitch. How were you supposed to know that he had his own fucking gang? What 23 year old man had that kind of power?? Why is it that the one time you decide to test your luck to get some extra cash, you kidnap a mafia boss???

"From the moment you tried to use that chloroform on me, I-I felt something," Todoroki rambled, interrupting your thoughts. "I was confused at first at the audacity but once I pretended to faint and you dragged me, very painfully I must say, to your van, I knew it had to be fate. I had read about fate before, but I never imagined that it would be this..." He trailed off and stared at your face in dreamlike wonder. "...beautiful."

You laughed awkwardly, silently noting the possibility of brain damage from when you moved him. "That's great man, but look-"

"It's more than great!" He leaned forward, his eyes gleaming excitedly as the ropes strained against him. "Nothing has ever made me feel this way before: flowers, money, the works, but the moment you tied me up, I knew we were-!"

"Look the whole kidnapping thing was a mistake. okay?" You interrupted abruptly. You ran your hands through your hair in frustration. Who knows how long you had until someone found you?

Todoroki's smile melted of his face. "A...mistake?"

"Yes! Exactly! It was just a wrong place, wrong time kind of situation! And I am sooooo sorry so let's just forget this ever happened and I'll even drop you off wherever you need to go." You finished with a nice 'im-so-sorry-for-kidnapping-you-please-dont-kill-me' smile.

He stared at you blankly for a full minute, making you sweat nervously. There was obviously a screw loose in his head and you really hoped you hadn't provoked him too badly.

"So you mean you never planned to kidnap me?" he asked quietly.

You shook your head. "I didn't. I'm sorry? I think..."

The silence echoed throughout the basement as precious seconds ticked by. Your hands itched to do something, but what? You weren't a murderer and there was no way you wouldn't face some kind of consequence so the only way out was to convince him to let the matter slide.

"Liar."

Todoroki chuckled at your dumbfounded expression. "Do you really I would believe that you kidnapped me, Shoto Todoroki, for a mere ransom?" He smiled adoringly up at you and you felt a chill run down your spine. "You wouldn't do something like this," he nodded down at his binds "For someone you don't love."

You backed away slowly. "Hey, you've got the wrong idea, I-"

"No, no I don't have wrong ideas," Todoroki drawled. "In fact I think I might be very right about this one soon."

"W-what...?" Suddenly, a loud pounding came from your front door above the basement. Loud, angry voices spilled into your home and stomped around, obviously looking for something. Or someone.

Todoroki looked almost apologetic as he smiled. "It looks like you'll have to make your choice now, my love. You just ran out of time."

You swore and hastily began cutting at his rope bindings as he watched in amusement. Fuck it. It was better to hang off the arm of this psycho than get caught by his men as his kidnapper. And he knew it too. You wanted to punch his stupidly pretty smug face.

"I'm so glad you decided to see thing my way, darling," Todoroki sighed, wrapping his arms around you. "And since you wanted me so badly, I'll give you exactly what you desire." He pressed your foreheads together just as the basement door splintered open.

"From now on, I'm never letting you out of my sight~"

READ PART 2 HERE

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emeritusemeritus · 2 months

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Could I get a Weasley twins x female reader where they have an established relationship and drunk one night confesses that one of the twins is *bigger* but you don't remember which one at the moment and they offer to help you remember and then at some point in the smut of it all the twins take turns thrusting in one at a time like Fred in then George then Fred and etc...

Hi Anon! This request has made me genuinely feral and I couldn’t wait to start writing this! 🖤

Warnings: SMUT, descriptive & graphic smut, slight humiliation kink? Possessiveness, sex games, the twins compete. Competition, reader has to chose. Use of petnames.

Word count: 2.1k

You really weren't sure what had led to this very moment, memory a little blurry from the alcohol, but whatever or however you got here, you were eternally thankful that you did.

You spent the night dancing, drinking and catching up with your girlfriends in London, having a good time and letting loose. You'd gotten home safely, had something to eat upon returning back to the flat and sobered up slightly until you were joined by your boyfriends on the couch, recounting the stories you'd been told and laughing about the night. It had taken a turn just around then when you'd disclosed a certain piece of information to the twins that you usually kept close to your chest, but the drink had loosened your lips and had created the very situation you were facing.

Your clothes had been unceremoniously ripped off on route to the bedroom, as had most of your boyfriends' attire. It was a rush of kisses and touches, little spanks and a lot of manhandling which always made you aroused past the point of rationality. You'd been bent over on the bed, face pressed into the pillows as the twins surrounded you, bantering back and forth as they watched your naked figure squirm for them.

George had pulled one of his silken ties from the dresser and had tied it around your eyes into a makeshift blindfold which only prompted your other senses to become heightened, leading to you feeling desperately aroused for them both.

"Can you tell who I am?" One of them asks from your left side, his hand ghosting over your arched back and over the curve of your ass that was completely on display for him.

"Georgie," you say with a breathlessness that only came on from being so painfully ready.

"Good girl," he says, his finger slipping between your folds until he lingers around your weeping hole, teasing and torturing you as you squirm to get him to penetrate you. When his finger eventually slip inside you, it's like pure torture and sheer relief all at the same time. When his finger pulls away, you let out an exaggerated whine, feeling the loss of him beside you.

"Still can't remember who's bigger sweet girl?" A voice from behind you says, which you're almost certain is Fred.

That's exactly what got you here, like this. A slip of the tongue, an accident, in which you'd disclosed to your boyfriends that one of them was slightly 'bigger'. You knew George had a slight upwards curve to his cock and Fred was a tad wider utnyly judt couldn't remember which of them could reach that spot deep inside you that made you breathless.

"Wanna find out?" The second voice said from your right side, which you thought was George.

"Please," you begged, not particularly caring about the game they were playing, you just wanted to be fucked, to be filled.

"Think we should get her remember mate?" One of the twins says to the other. It's almost sinful how wet this makes you, their playful banter talking about you without actually including you, like you're just a fuck toy to them.

"I reckon we need to," the other agrees, "wouldn't want our girl to forget would we?"

"Turns?" They say at the same time, apparently thinking the exact same thing as a hand creeps over the curve of your bum, watching as you squirm for attention.

"What'd'you think sweetheart? We each take a turn and you try to tell us who's bigger? And if you guess the right brother we'll let's you cum."

It feels like you're burning from the inside out, from Fred's words alone never mind the hand that was caressing your skin, across your back and over your bum.

"Please, please," you beg quietly, pleads muffled as your face presses into the pillow.

You hear a deep chuckle and you can't help but try and close your legs at the noise, desperate for some friction.

When the first twin lines themselves up with your waiting hole, you hold your breath in anticipation, too overwhelmed with the need to be filled. The first thrust has you gasping into the pillow, the semi-forceful but still delicate thrust making it impossible for you to think of anything other than the cock inside you.

"Any clues?" One of them says behind you but you can't determine who. There's no hands on you, no nicknames or whispered praises, only the feel of their rigid cock grazing your inner walls. You let out a sigh of disappointment as you felt them remove themselves from you after only that initial thrust but then gasped when you felt another cock lining up with you and this time pushing in with less hesitation.

You cried out into the pillow as they pushed in, filling you completely and holding themselves deep inside you, keeping their hips flushed with yours. Was it the other twin, a different cock? Or was it the same?

Another cry filled the air as you felt them pull out and be replaced by the other, this time you knew for definite as you felt the bed shift as someone else took their place.

Over and over you felt them thrust into you, one at a time and taking turns, feeling every inch of their perfect cocks without any resolution to the burning desire you were feeling. It was pure torture, having them right where you needed them but only for one single thrust, absolutely not what you needed from them.

"Any takers?" One of them says as they thrust into you harshly, making a gasp emit from your throat. "Who am I baby? You know my cock?"

"Or mine?" The second one says, thrusting deep as soon as his twin had retreated.

For the first time you can feel a slight hint at who it was, the second that their place a hesitant hand to your hip before quickly pulling away. Your eyes are closed as you reach a slight subspace, too consumed by the feel of them to allow any of your other senses to work properly. It's George, it had to be. The delicious curve of his cock drags across your upper walls as he sinks in to you, the ghost of a hand on your hip being the dead giveaway. George held your hip whereas Fred would have grabbed and left bruises. George liked to drag out every thrust, forcing you to feel him slowly filling you whereas Fred was often rougher, quicker in pace. George's curve served him well, pressed against that delicious spot inside of you that made you see stars whereas Fred's girth seemed to make you breathless even without needing to be in more than just his tip. But who was bigger?

"George!" You cried out, taking the chance and as soon as you called out his name, his hands fell to your hips and he began thrusting wildly into you, not pulling out or stopping as they had for what seemed like hours. You'd been right.

"But who's bigger?" He says, pulling you back just enough so that you're face is no longer pushed into the pillow.

"I- I don't know," you say weakly as you try and canter your hips to get him to fuck you again.

You cry out in frustration as George suddenly pulls out, leaving you empty and increasingly annoyed at the game they were playing .

Suddenly, Fred's whole length is shoved inside you without warning, his big hands coming to grab at your hips as he fucks deep, holding you tightly in place. You automatically squirm to alleviate the pressure from deep inside you but his grip is so strong you can hardly move.

“Still don’t know, pretty girl?” You can hear the smirk in his voice even over the sound of your deep breaths, trying to steady yourself against the feeling of him so deep, so far up you’re certain he’s in your guts.

“Freddie!” You cry out, trying to get him to fuck you, “you said I could cum, I guessed right!”

“Yeah we did,” both of them say at the same time, making your walls clench around Fred’s length.

“Who’s bigger sweetheart?”

You don’t want to say, don’t want to upset either of them even though you know it’s Fred. It’s only maybe an inch, if that, and you’re sure the wider girth of his cock is making him seem even bigger but you couldn’t say, not out loud.

“You’re both-.”

You can’t even finish your sentence as he suddenly starts pounding you, taking what he wants from your little dripping hole. You cry out, head thrown back at the feeling and you feel yourself building up to an almighty climax after almost no time at all, so wound up from their torturous teasing.

“Cum sweetheart, let me feel you,” Fred says between ragged breaths as his grip doubles down on your hips. It’s rare that you can cum so effortlessly without any clit stimulation but between their game, your vulnerable and exposed position and the extended teasing, you were feeling ready to cut almost immediately.

“Freddie!Fred!” You chat as you feel yourself falling over the edge, earning a generous and ridiculously sexy moan from Fred as he feels your walls tightening around him. He cums not a second later after you ride out your peak, your fingers digging into the soft bedsheets below you, pillows smushed into your face. His cum feels blazing hot as it fills you, his roar echoing through the room as he releases everything he has deep inside you, once again keeping you as far down on his cock as you can go.

“Wanna feel who cums more?” You hear from beside you, a hand stroking over your spine as you turn your head weakly to look at George who’s smirking at you, cock still hard.

You nod pathetically into the soft pillow, letting out a whine as you feel Fred pull out of you.

“Roll over Angel, want to see your beautiful face.”

He helps you shift, knees locking from being in the same position for so long. Your hair fans out against the pillows as you look up with half-lidded and tired eyes at George who climbs on top of you, smirking and with wandering eyes. He leans down and kisses over your breasts, your nipples hardening under his tongue. You cry out when his hand makes contact with your swollen and neglected clit, circling it just how he knows you like.

“You ready for me Angel?”

“Yes Georgie,” You say, eyebrows knitted together as you focus on the pleasure from his fingers, never wanting him to stop.

He pulls away only to line his cock up with your pussy as you feel him slowly sink it, drawing out that first thrust until he begins wildly thrusting into you, pulling your leg up onto his shoulder. His left hand holds your leg whilst his right hand sinks down to play with your clit again making almost inhuman noises fall from your lips. In this position he always seems to get exactly the right angle to drive you crazy, to hit all the spots that he knew Fred couldn’t.

“Not gonna last Angel, want you to cum with me.”

He begins circling just a little faster around your sensitive nub and your hips begin to buck wildly against his only thrusts, making him fuck you harder, deeper.

“Fuck!” He cries out as his hips stutter, his cup already shooting deep into you. You didn’t think you could be any fuller than you felt already but as he pours his load deep into you, fucking it deeper and deeper, you feel like you’ll explode. And you do. Your orgasm hits you like a steam train, walls wildly clenching and squeezing on their own accord as the overwhelming amount of cum trickles out of you even around George’s softening cock.

When he finally pulls out of you, he sits back on his haunches trying to catch his breath as you do the same, only lying down spread out on the bed, completely unfazed by your nudity.

Fred hops back on the bed beside you and immediately pulls you into his arms, not having bothered to re-dress during your time with George.

You’re completely sober now, at least in terms of alcohol- you feel completely cock drunk.

“What’s the verdict sweetheart?” He asks, wiggling his eyebrows and you look up at him in disbelief. Even George shoots his twin a look of disbelief as he tries to catch his breath.

“Don’t know, you’ll have to try again tomorrow.”

“Best 2 out of 3?”

“Yeah.”

#emeritusemeritus #emeritusemerituswrites #harry potter #fred weasley #George Weasley #george weasley x reader x fred weasley #Weasley twins x you #Weasley twins x reader #Weasley twins smut #requests #request closed #anon answered

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traumxrei-archive · 1 year

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【 don't be afraid to get close 】

prompt #1: He had them against the wall but now he can’t stop looking at their mouth… (ft. jamil viper + riddle rosehearts)

gn! prefect (you/yours), drabbles, word count: 737 words

a/n: i said i'd delete requests, but i figured out that writing them out as hcs was a lot faster aND more fun for me. so. the rest of my 600 followers event fics will be in hc format >:DD had lots of fun writing for mr rosehearts and mr viper, so enjoy

Riddle Rosehearts

The one thing that peeved Riddle more than anything was when a uniform was worn incorrectly. So when he saw you walking around the halls with a loosened tie of all things, he knew he had to intervene.

"Prefect?" You looked at him with a slight smile. "Could you come with me for a minute?" You followed him easily to a more secluded part of the hallway, where Riddle could finally grab at your very loose tie.

"Prefect, as i've emphasized, it is important to keep your appearance as neat as possible," Riddle lectured as he continued to tie the knot. "It not only helps with cleanliness, but also with confide–"

Riddle's gaze flitted up. Big mistake.

He tried not to flinch at the proximity of your face to his. He was definitely not paying attention to the curve of your cheek or the part of your lips. Sevens, your lips looked so soft, he wondered if–

He dropped the tie like he was burned

You raised an eyebrow, "Is this how the great Heartslabyul housewarden ties a tie?"

And Riddle went red. He was sure he was flushing down the base of his neck, but he couldn't get his mouth to work.

"Senpai," There was a hand at his arm, tugging while you innocently tilted your head. "Did you get distracted by something?"

Great Queen of Hearts, Riddle was not going to make it out of here alive.

"O-of course not," Riddle forced out, his voice coming out unnaturally high. "I was merely just...we were standing very close together...."

He shut his mouth, intent on salvaging whatever petty pride he still had left. He then grabbed the tie with shaky hands, working at it once again as if he didn't just flush his rapport with you down the drain just seconds before.

Once the tie was done, Riddle sighed with relief, smoothing the material before letting it go.

"Thanks senpai," You said, before leaning in close and– Riddle shut his eyes, a light pressure landing on his cheek. He opened his eyes to see you smiling as you waved, heading to class as if nothing happened.

Riddle, on the other hand, crouched on the ground. He would never be able to get the flush out of his cheeks.

Jamil Viper

Jamil had a love-hate relationship with rain. but today he was bordering on the "hate" side. He was completely drenched, caught off guard by the rain as he quickly ducked into an alcove, tugging you behind him.

He cursed, pulling out two towels from his gym bag, "It's clean." At your questioning look he elaborated, "I bring two because Floyd always tries to steal mine."

Jamil draped the towel over your head, helping you dry your hair out of habit. He was secretly pleased as you let him do as he wanted.

However, he didn't realize how intimate of a situation he had created for himself until he felt you reaching over with the towel in your hand to help him.

That was when Jamil's gaze slid to the wall that he had backed you into, before dropping down to your lips.

Oh.

Jamil averted his eyes, trying hard to school his expression into neutrality. He picked up his pace, swiping at the water with renewed vigor until—

"Jamil?" A small silence. "Hm?" His reply came late, too busy focusing on a droplet of water as it traced down your face, wishing it was his fingers instead.

"You...look like you want a kiss."

Jamil swallowed, throat dry because he had been completely exposed. How was it that you were able to know his feelings so easily?

He saw the nervousness flit across your expression at the prolonged silence, so he let himself speak, "And...what if i do?"

You tugged at the towel around his neck, pulling him that much closer. His lips met yours clumsily, the cold of the rain fleeing for something warmer. He couldn't help but hold you closer, bridging the gap to feel the slide of your skin against his.

As he pulled back, Jamil wasn't sure what was louder, the sound of the rain pelting the roofs, or the sound of his heartbeat in his ears.

"Was that okay?" You asked tentatively, and Jamil all but wanted to laugh.

Instead he smirked, letting his cold fingers press against the warmth of your cheek, "i think i'll need a few more of those to warm up, ya sukar."

thank you for reading this far ^^ if you'd like to see the rest of the 600 followers event, find it here, and if you want to see more of my writing, go check out my masterlist <3 (p.s. to the people asking, 'ya sukar' means 'my sugar' >:D)

#/trau writes #jamil viper x reader #jamil viper #riddle rosehearts x reader #riddle rosehearts #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland #tbh these were fun to write #ah the joys of drabbles and hcs #how i've missed writing them #and how quick they are lmfao

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youssefguedira · 3 months

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@materassassino sent me a prompt but in my exhaustion and lack of brain cells i answered the ask without writing the actual thing and then deleted it so. oops.

but the prompt was extremely sleepy Nicky is different from normal Nicky, so have a very silly little thing

"Leave him alone," Joe is saying without any real annoyance, "it's the deepest he's slept in weeks." He's in one of the armchairs, ignoring the book on his lap in favour of Andy, who's perched on the arm of the couch.

When Nile gets close enough to see over the back of the couch she has to blink a couple times: it's Nicky, completely passed out, currently with three books balanced on his chest while Andy holds a fourth. They rise and fall as he breathes. He's completely dead to the world.

"Is he asleep?" Nile asks, because she still can't quite believe that Nicky, of all people, is sleeping through that. Andy places the fourth book with careful precision and reaches for a fifth.

The thing is, Nicky has a hair trigger for being woken up. Nile learned this a week after meeting him, when she startled him by walking into the living room of their most recent safehouse while he was sleeping on the couch (on watch, but she'd forgotten) and he'd already been reaching for the gun on the side table before she realised he was even there, and then he'd apologised for the gun thing, and told her he hadn't "learned what her footsteps sound like" yet.

After a while he'd stopped going for the weapons whenever she surprised him, but he'd still wake at the slightest sound. Andy's got a similar thing going, but she's a little bit slower, whereas Joe does wake fast, but definitely isn't all the way alert the way Nicky is.

She'd wondered if it was down to what happened in Goussainville, but when she'd finally worked up the courage to ask, because she was starting to wonder if he ever actually slept properly, Joe had just laughed and said he'd always been like that.

But once Andy had decided that the loose ends from Merrick had been sufficiently tied up, she'd called for a couple weeks of downtime, and before that Nicky had been on recon duty, sleeping even less and even worse than usual. So she's not surprised he's sleeping: she's surprised he's still asleep.

"Pass me a couple more," Andy says to Joe, who sighs, but does grab two from nearby and pass them over.

Nile looks between them, and then at Nicky. "That's not gonna wake him up?"

Joe chuckles. "Not when he's like this," he says. "He won't wake for another hour or two. Definitely not until dinner."

Nile blinks at him. Joe, sure, she could believe. Andy, too - Nile's pretty sure she sleeps more during the day than she does at night. She's almost as bad as Nicky for lurking in dark rooms at night. But Nicky?

"He doesn't do this very often," Joe explains. "But the rest of us are awake, and everything's dealt with, for now, so he's comfortable enough."

"Booker built an entire house of cards on him, once," Andy says. "Record for books is, what, nineteen?"

"Eighteen," Joe says. "2012."

Andy places a sixth book and reaches for a seventh. Nile thinks for a moment.

"Only eighteen?" she says.

Andy's grin can only be described as wicked. "That's the spirit," she says. "Pass me another."

Nicky wakes at twenty-one, prompting the entire pile to crash onto the floor, which makes him scramble upright until his brain comes all the way back online, at which point he clocks why the three of them are laughing so hard there are tears in Joe's eyes, and curses them out in five languages.

But he's smiling while he does it, all the same.

#neon writes #the old guard #back on the bus. so #neon answers #materassassino #spiritually if not actually. hope you enjoyed this this was a lot of fun!!#hoping i remembered the prompt right. hit post instead of save draft hope that didn't give you a really weird notification

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biggestsimponhere · 1 year

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angst to smut ask: #7 prompt for angst where the reader is actually the hyde and has been manipulating everyone into thinking it was Tyler. Eventually he takes things into his own hands and ties her up and hatefucking ensues

Hatefucking - Tyler Galpin x reader, OML, THATS A VERY INTERESTING PROMPT 🤭😈 this could easily have an actual angst pt 2 btw.

WARNING - Smut, dom/sub undertones.

You hadn’t meant to throw Tyler under the bus. He was just the easiest. He was there at every attack I mean it makes sense doesn’t it? So as Wednesday continued her hunt you subtly threw hints out about it being Tyler. “Where’d Tyler go after the dance?”, “Why didn’t Tyler follow you into the woods when you went after Rowan?” Of course you liked Tyler it was really such a shame you had to do this to him. Slowly the group started to question Tyler like you had been. You of course knew the truth. He wasn’t the Hyde. You were.

So all that being said. That’s how you ended up here. tied to a bed in what appeared to be an abandoned building. Tyler sat across from you in a chair. “Why’d you do it?” He asked leaning forward. “Do what Ty?” You asked trying to act concerned. You could easily break out of this if you tried. “Stop it, don’t act dumb” He spat, looking away from you. “Ty, I don’t know what you’re talking about, why did you tie me here” You said forcing panic into your voice. “Oh stop it, you manipulative little bitch” He said moving to stand over you. “Oh fine, but it was fun wasn’t it Ty” you said smirking. He just looked away from you, clenching his jaw.

“Oh just admit it Ty, you enjoyed our little game” You said looking up at him. “No I didn’t” he said glaring down at you. “Admit it Ty, you want me, I can smell it, the arousals coming off of you, is it me being tied up?” You laughed as he turned away again. “Enough” he said, his voice firm. “Come here Ty” Clearly the boy didn’t have much willpower cause he did come back. “Shut up” he said looking at you again. “Shut me up” You said smirking again. He leaned down and kissed you. You chased the kiss but he pulled away. “You want me too, don’t you?” He said laughing. “Obviously I want you, why do you think I’m still stuck to this bed?, you think I can’t get out?” You said shaking your head.

“Oh I know you can, I just wanted to see if you would try or not” He said before kissing you again. “Untie me please” You asked as he moved from your lips to your jaw and then to your neck. “No, I quite like having this power over you” he said sucking on your neck. You yanked at your wrists, the rope falling loose off of them. Then you flipped Tyler so he was flat against the mattress with you straddling him. “Power? Over me? That’s really interesting” You said grinding onto him and then watching him chase your hips. “Seems like the only one with power here is me” You said as you sucked on his neck. He went to thread his fingers through your hair before realising his wrists were now tied to the bed. “H-how, when did you do that?” He asked looking at his wrists.

“When I was kissing you, silly, men are so easy” you said pushing your hips against his again. You leaned down and captured his lips with yours again. “Is there something you want honey?, you’ve gotta ask. You know the drill” You continued kissing down his neck till he was breathing heavier. “You gonna ask pretty boy?” You said swiping the hair off his forehead. You quickly removed your clothes before sitting in front of him again. “P-please” He groaned out. “Please what?” You said, making him beg a bit more. “Please touch me, please” He said bucking his hips into your hand. “See that wasn’t so hard, was it?” You said undoing his belt. He was practically a mess beneath you and you’ve barely even touched him.

“Hey what’s your safe word?” He looked up at you confused. “I’m mean, not cruel” you said at his questioning look. “Red” He said as you pulled off his pants. Now that his jeans weren’t constricting him, you could see just how big he was. You bit your lip before pulling his boxers down. “Wait!” He shouted before you could do anything. “Yes?” You said looking up at him expectantly. “I- I wanna eat you out first, please sit on my face” He said making puppy dog eyes at you. “Are you sure? You don’t have to” You said, slightly concerned about crushing him. “Yes I’m sure, god I’ve never been so sure about anything” He said licking his lips. You moved up towards his face. You hovered over his face till he nodded at you. You were now fully seated on his face. He immediately started sucking on your clit.

You bucked your hips against his tongue. He then moved down towards your hole. He stuck his tongue in you feeling how you tightened around him he groaned before continuing to lap at you. You moaned out, bucking against his face. His nose rubbing against your clit making you moan louder. You threaded your hands through his hair as he continued to eat you out. “God!” You moaned out as you came into his mouth. You slid off of his face and back down his hips. You stopped for a second, untying his hands. “Can I suck you off pretty boy?” You asked to which he responded by rapidly nodding. You moved back down to settle in between his legs.

Leaning forward you licked his tip causing him to groan. You then moved your tongue from his tip down to his base and then back up. You took the tip into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it for a minute, before taking him deeper. He put his hand through your hair and pulled it into a makeshift ponytail. You hallowed out your cheeks before taking him deeper. Above you the hand that wasn’t in your hair gripped the sheets as he whimpered. You pulled your hand up to wrap around what you couldn’t fit in your mouth. You continued to suck him off till he couldn’t take your agonisingly slow pace. He gripped your hair a little tighter before fucking into your face.

You just let him chase his orgasm. He came in your mouth shortly after and you sucked him till he had nothing left to give. Then you slid off him with a pop and moved to kiss him again. “Please fuck me, please” he whined as you settled on his hips again. “Since you asked so nicely I suppose I can do that, are you gonna be a good boy for me?” You asked as you lined him up with your entrance. “Yes, yes please” he whimpered as you sank down onto him. It took a few to adjust to his size but eventually you got there. You started bouncing on him before eventually getting tired of doing all the work. “Be a good boy for me and fuck me, I’m sick of doing all the work” You ordered. So he flipped you around till he was on top.

He started his pace up again, and you moaned loudly in his ear. “God, I hate you” you moaned as he continued to pound into you. “Yeah I hate you too” He said moving to suck another hickey onto your neck. “For someone who hates me you sure seem to want to mark me a lot” you groaned as he pounded into you. “Could say the- same to you” he said gripping your hips. Surely tight enough to leave bruises tomorrow. You just moaned as you came around him. He followed shortly after, cumming inside you. He pulled out and laid next to you. “Y-you’re not gonna tell anyone I’m the Hyde right?” You asked looking him in the eyes. “Not until we figure out how to fix it sweetheart” He said brushing a strand of hair out of your face.

You wrapped your arms around him and he pulled you into him. “Goodnight, I love you Ty” you mumbled into his chest. “Goodnight. I love you, sweetheart.” You drifted off to sleep in his arms. He leaned down and kissed your forehead and then whispered “I’m sorry” against your hairline before he injected you with sleeping serum.

#tyler galpin smut #tyler galpin x y/n #tyler galpin x you #tyler galpin x reader #tyler galpin #wednesday #Wednesday characters x reader #hunter doohan

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ohmykiyo · 1 year

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🪦 title ; "hey is that my shirt?" ,, "you mean our shirt?" genre ; fluff & romance warnings ; cute boys and fluff overload lol, lowercase intended characters ; sakusa, suna, atsumu, kageyama, hinata, tsukishima 🗝️ jeilly's notes ; i saw this prompt show up on my fyp and felt inspired LMAO, reqs r open!

SAKUSA eyes you suspiciously from the couch as you walked-- no, strutted, into the living room wearing nothing but an over-sized shirt and shorts.

you were quite oblivious to the fact, continuing to make your way into the kitchen. you were humming the tune of your favorite song, your steps matching the rhythm.

as you stopped right in front of the refrigerator, you kneel down to dig through it.

sakusa continues to stare and stare, until he finally chooses to speak up. "what're you up to now, my love?" he furrows his eyebrows.

you peek out into the living room, making eye contact with your raven-head boyfriend.

"looking for some food because i'm hungry?" you roll your eyes, shifting your attention back onto the refrigerator.

he knows damn well you rolled your eyes at him, even when you turned away before doing so.

he only gets up and walks toward your kneeling figure.

now standing directly behind you, he stills. arms crossing over his chest, he eyes the all-too-familiar shirt you're wearing.

clearing his throat, he speaks, "what're you wearing?" his eyes narrowing.

freezing in your tracks, you get up to face him slowly.

"uhmm..."

he leans down to your level, and you are now staring right at his dark blue orbs.

"tongue-tied now, are we?" he tuts, "just answer my question, is that my shirt?"

you stare at him, then at your (his) shirt, then back at him again.

with a nervous smile, you say, "you mean our shirt?"

he looks at you dumbfounded before breaking out into a series of laughter.

"you're such a dork." he mutters, his hand coming up to pinch your cheek.

"your dork, omi."

he laughs once again, "okay you corny lady, go get your food."

he presses a feathery kiss to your forehead before returning to his former place on the sofa.

SUNA scrolls aimlessly through his instagram feed, not noticing your presence as you enter your shared bedroom.

you rummage through the closet, frustration taking over you as you realize you have no clean clothes left.

you glance between the closet and your boyfriend. since rin's too busy on his phone, you shrug slightly before picking out a shirt of his. walking out with it and then returning with the shirt hanging below your thighs.

it fit your figure loosely, making it comfortable to be in. again, suna did not notice a thing because he's still scrolling through his very bland instagram feed.

you make your way into the living room, plopping yourself down on the couch before putting your favorite series on.

you were so immersed in the series, you don't realize that your boyfriend is looming over you.

he noticed the shirt you were wearing and was in the mood to tease you.

tapping you on the shoulder, you turn your head at the contact.

"oh, hi baby." you say, patting the empty spot on the couch. he jumps over the sofa, sitting on the spot you just patted, then puts his arm around you.

he smiles, "noticed the shirt you were wearin', pretty."

your ears and cheeks flushed with a shade of pink and red. keeping your eyes trained on the tv to avoid staring your boyfriend in the eye, you replied.

"uhm.. yeah, what about it?" you stammer.

he shrugs, side-eyeing you. "is that my shirt?"

your eyes shift from your boyfriend to the tv, not knowing how to answer.

you clear your throat, "you mean our shirt?"

smiling apologetically, suna rolls his eyes at your response.

"oh we're sharing now?" his eyes narrow, "what about when i wanted to use your shirt?"

"okay, babe, first of all," you begin, "the shirt was a fucking crop-top."

he looks at you, his expression clearly saying "your point?"

you glare at him before continuing. "you were gonna use it to make your dumb thirst-traps, weren't you?"

suna freezes up. removing his arm from your shoulders nervously. he chuckles dryly, before answering with a little "uhmm nooo~"

you slap his chest playfully, forcing him to recoil with a slight "ow".

rolling your eyes, you give him a kiss on the cheek before saying, "the shirt's mine now, by the way."

his head snaps your direction as you swiftly get up to run away.

"can't catch me, you wannabe thirst-trapper!" you giggle.

ATSUMU stares intently as you make your way around the kitchen. you hum your favorite tune, swaying your hips slightly to the rhythm.

you blonde-haired boyfriend only watches in awe as you fry some delicious smelling food in the pan. the oil dances around as you shift the pan all over the stove.

atsumu was so mesmerized by your beauty, he failed to notice the much too over-sized hoodie you were wearing-- which certainly wasn't yours because you stole it from atsumu's side of the closet.

you sort of forgot that you were even wearing it in the first place.

so, when atsumu snaps out of the trance he was in because of you..

that hoodie was the first thing he noticed.

walking up to your busy figure, he wraps his arms around the slope of your waist.

"noticed yer hoodie, angel," he smirks, pressing his lips to your neck.

you tense up. a nervous chuckle making its way past your lips.

biting your lower lip, you replied, "yeah? what about it?"

"looks an awful lot like mine, don't ya think?" he mutters. "is that mine?"

letting out a choked cough, you said the first thing that came to mind..

"you mean ours?"

his lips leave the crook of your neck as he spins you around in one swift move.

with a smirk plastered all over his face, he chuckles lightly. "well won't ya look at that, getting a little bold now, are we?" he places his thumb and index finger on your chin, his lips inching closer and closer to yours.

he finally gives you a long, drawn out kiss.

tugging lightly on the shirt, he smirks into the kiss. you only roll your eyes once again.

the kiss goes on and it's almost getting a lot more intimate until-

"babe, ya smell that?"

"smell what, 'tsum?"

"uhm... somethin's burnin', angel."

you push your boyfriend off you, turning the stove off with a loud 'click!'

"jesus fucking christ, 'tsum." you pinch the bridge of your nose.

he only apologizes with another drawn out kiss, which was completely unnecessary.

KAGEYAMA starts removing all the hung-up shirts he had in his closet because he can't seem to find his favorite shirt with milk on it.

he rummages around anxiously, looking through almost all the closets and drawers in the house.

he walks by your office again and again, still looking for his favorite shirt. growing agitated by the minute, he finally walks into your office to beg for your help.

"y/n," he calls, "i can't find my milk shirt and i want you to-" he pauses. he looks you up and down as you stay seated on your chair. the typing sounds on your laptop seemed to have stopped.

"what's up, baby?" you ask, completely unbeknownst to the fact that you are wearing your boyfriend's favorite piece of clothing.

kageyama stomps over to your desk, practically looming over you ominously.

"..."

"..?"

"is that my shirt????" he asks, dumbfounded.

you look at him..

then at your shirt-- well.. his shirt.

then back at him again.

"you mean our shirt?" you smile nervously.

kageyama only pouts and groans dramatically before walking out of your office practically in tears.

of course, you follow him into your shared bedroom and pester him with a dozen kisses.

he's so in love with you, he might just let you keep that favorite shirt of his.

"you owe me more of those..." he says.

you raise an eyebrow, "more of what?"

"..."

"???"

"when you put your lips on mine, those." he grunts.

"baby, you mean kisses..?"

"..."

"shut up."

HINATA runs from room to room, finishing up chores and making food so you didn't need to lift a finger.

he had a pretty apron on that you both bought as a set, it made him smile knowing that there are things he shares with you and no one else.

he continued shifting around, moving here and there. listening to the light pops and sizzles of the oil swirling around in the pan he was holding.

while he was busy, you came out of the bathroom. walking hastily into the bedroom, you opened up the closet.

scanning your side of the closet, you realize that you don't wanna wear anything too tight. sadly, your clothes were full of it.

your eyes slowly looks over to hinata's side of the closet, and you see all the over-sized shirts he has.

'he wouldn't mind..' you think to yourself, and pick out a light blue shirt with a cute puppy in the center.

walking out into the living, you were hit with the wonderful aroma of your boyfriend's cooking.

it took him awhile to reveal that he loved cooking, and even received some tips from osamu, his teammate's twin brother.

coming up behind him to wrap your arms around his torso, you press a feathery kiss to the apple of his cheek. "hi, baby."

leaning into your touch, he greets you back. "hi, my pretty girl, you hungry?"

you nod slightly, nuzzling further into the back of his shoulder. he blushes at the contact. he sadly has to remove himself from your grasp in order to serve you food.

as he does, he quickly notices the light blue shirt that looks a lot like his.

"babe." he calls.

"yes? somethin' wrong?" you ask, confused.

he scans your (his) piece of clothing further before answering, "is that my shirt?"

you sway your body around nervously at his question.

"you mean our shirt?"

he snickers. it took him awhile to process your words, but he laughed.

"our shirt? babe, you don't even give me the chips i buy for you." he rolls his eyes.

you cross your arms over your chest, "shoyo, you ate the 2 other bags... ALONE." you glare.

hinata lets out a "pffttt as if" rubbing the back of his neck, knowing he got caught red-handed.

you quickly hushed you up with a kiss to stop you from listing all the other things he did to defend yourself.

he plates your food, and presses another chaste kiss to your cheek

"still my shirt, by the way." he grunts.

TSUKISHIMA has his nose stuck in ridiculously big textbook, with a notepad beside it. he scribbles here and there after reading a couple sentences from the textbook.

he exhales lightly, not acknowledging your figure that's currently leaning on the door frame of his office.

you clear your throat, which grabs his attention.

"whatddya' need, weirdo." he asks.

you stick your tongue out at him before replying, "what's with the sass, you spoiled kid."

he looks up from his notes to see you hold a tray full of snacks. his mouth takes the shape of an "o" after he realized why you were there.

"sorry, sweetheart." he smiles apologetically.

you only huff before setting the tray down lightly on his desk.

you dust your hands, admiring the perfectly arranged snacks you prepared for your snarky blonde boyfriend.

"where's my 'thank you", you spoiled shit." you huff.

tsukishima looks up at you with a smile before pulling you down to peck your pretty lips. "thank you, y/n."

you get up with a grunt of acknowledgement.

you're just about to leave his office when he stops you with a little "hold on, missy."

you turn around slowly, praying he doesn't notice the graphic tee you're currently wearing. (it belongs to him.)

"is that my shirt, sweetheart?" he smirks, his chin resting on his propped up hand.

you chuckle nervously, fiddling with the hem of the shirt.

"you mean our shirt..?"

he rolls his eyes with a smile, shooing you away with his hands.

"i'll let it slide, babe, only because you made me this." he points at the snack tray you brought him.

you skip over to him, pressing a kiss to his lips before finally exiting his office.

he watches you leave, huffing quietly, "such an idiot."

he glances over at the snack tray with a wide grin.

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doonarose · 21 days

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GOAD Writer's Guild presents: A Bathhouse Pretense

CW/TW: Explicit, sex in public, orgy scenes and descriptions of other men having sex, the exhibitionism/voyeurism that goes with that , wet and messy comeplay things, edging, cockwarming.

Summary: Written for the @goodomensafterdark Valentine's Gift Exchange (yes, it's May, I'm so sorry!! Chapter 1 was posted back then but it has been a journey to finish this one up!) For Zaay-zaay who requested top Crowley in a bathhouse with kissing and maybe cockwarming. To wit:

Aziraphale seeks Crowley out in 38 BC Rome, and finds him in a bathhouse which just so happens to be hosting an orgy. Aziraphale is there to discuss upcoming celestial business, Crowley is there for a good time, but when Hastur happens to drop by, it gives them an (admittedly flimsy) excuse to get close, and then closer still.

First time sex in the back corner bath, canon compliant, much edging, feelings and filth.

Word count: 18k, complete!

Thanks: Good lord! Everyone!! Thanks to Fuzzygoblinoid for the beautiful header art!

Thanks enormously to my three betas on the second chapter: Likeafuckingninja, Gingercat and Natyu0815. Ninja who held my hand for weeks after falling off the writing horse and trying to clamber back on, Natyu for the cheerleading, and Ginger for the very last minute swoop in with some cracker ideas! Thanks also to Fishey_me and FuzzyGoblin for their insanely quick beta on the first chapter!

Thanks also to all the people in the GOAD Writer's Guild chat who have listened to my whining about trying to write part two for literal months! And thanks again to Zaay-zaay for a fantastic prompt that took me a little outside my comfort zone and then being insanely chill about overly long porn and a very long delay!

Excerpt: In the end, he recognises Crowley by his laugh: low and gravelly, but genuine. His hair’s much darker when it’s wet. He’s close to the back edge of the second bath, the hotter one, Aziraphale guesses, judging by the slick of steam shimmering over the liquid. He’s slid down on a low submerged bench so that the water’s lapping at his shoulders.

It suddenly occurs to Aziraphale that he could have found Crowley here in flagrante delicto – plenty of others are. The thought crosses his mind like it’s been scratching to get out of a sealed box, and he only has a moment to unpack it, turn it over, and then push it back somewhere locked away.

Thankfully, Crowley’s being entertained more simply, by a man lying flat on his belly across the floor behind him, a towel covering his buttocks, as he leans close to Crowley’s ear and speaks in hushed whispers. He’s got his fingertips buried in Crowley’s dark hair, half of it amassed in a bun and the rest hanging loose to his shoulders, as he massages Crowley’s scalp. The interloper has white blonde hair drawn back in long curls tied off at the nape of his neck, he looks middle-aged, stocky, the slopes of his back and arse broad and supple.

The blonde says something else that makes Crowley tip his head back and laugh, and the man tightens his fingers in Crowley’s hair, tipping his face back further so he can lean forward and over him, bite at the angle of his jaw from above and then draw back to dangle a bunch of green grapes over his lips.

Crowley plucks one with his teeth and slides back into the water, so that it laps at his chin as he chews. He sees Aziraphale suddenly, surprise making his bright yellow eyes go wide and then his lips smile around the last of the grape juice and he arches an eyebrow.

“Aziraphale!” he says, voice warm and drawled as though the baths and whatever else he’s been up to here have him relaxed, perhaps even sated.

To continue reading head on over to AO3!

#doonas fic #good omens fic #good omens smut

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fuxuannie · 1 year

Note

Hii! Do you mind doing headcanons of jing yuan, blade and yanqing (platonically please maybe older sister/mother figure) with a sweet and optimistic s/o like they're not overbearing just affectionate and a ball of sunshine and positivity, making treats for everyone and want to make everyone feel comfortable and included(kinda like a mix of nilou and amber my favorite precious girls I love them so much 😭💕🤍) thank you so so much in advance and I hope you have a wonderful day 🥰💌

* pairing(s) : blade + jing yuan x fem reader

* prompt : request

* authors note : i wanted to do this really quickly, and its kind of (very,,) off track of the original request but kind of wanted to try something new! (part 2 will be written if asked by requester ♡)

MODERN AU.

In your workplace, it wasn't uncommon for different ceos from several other companies to come visit your boss. Jing Yuan, one of the most famous ceo's, was a name you'd want to have sign a contract of yours. You were his assistant, but only ever to run simple errands while he was busy with his schedule. Not only that, but you were also Yanqing's older sister. Yanqing worked in the same office, but with a much higher position. (In which you were proud of him, but also veeery confused.)

When he told you about a meeting in which another CEO would be visiting the building, a small lightbulb popped in your head and you thanked your brother, a small kiss on his forehead as you went to Jing Yuan directly for this idea. "I hope you do not mind, sir. But I'll be happy to make a few treats for the guest tomorrow, however, I'd have to start early and leave at this moments notice.. I know that-"

"I'll be happy to let you."

Your eyes widen slightly, which he notices and chuckles. "Your idea is very cute, I'll be happy to entertain it and I'm sure our guests will greatly appreciate it." You feel a warm sensation on your cheeks, but bow to your boss and thank him for his time before walking out while covering your face in small embarassment.

He leans his head on his hand, smiling a little at your fluster. "Cute."

On the day of the visit, you weren't exactly informed of who it was. But just knew that the three visiting Jing Yuan's office were a big deal. You stood on his right, and Yanqing on his left, a tray of sweets on the table right infront of you as you waited quietly.

The first person who walked in was a woman who clearly walked with confidence and pride, her hair tied up in a neat bun as a much shorter silver haired girl followed after her. She was playing games on what seemed to be a nintendo switch as she immediately took a seat and focused on her game.

Lastly was a man, his presence slightly intimidated you as you immediately recognized him. His wealth was insane, being one of the richest people within your country, and so that alone made his aura unintentionally (or intentionally) intimidating.

You looked down, but don't notice how that action alone caught his attention. It makes him pause, which Jing Yuan immediately noticed. He clears his throat loudly, which makes Blade snap out of his trance and look at him. "Greetings, Jing Yuan." He greets, bowing slightly with a hand to his chest.

Your boss nods in acknowledgement, standing up as you and Yanqing both straighten yourselves and greet with him. "Welcome." He turns his head to you, then the biscuits you made last night and smiles.

"My assistant made you all snacks to enjoy during our meeting, please, help yourself." You swiftly pick up the tray and walk to the woman now recognizable as Kafka once she took off her glasses. "Thank you, dearest." Next was Silverwolf due to the iconic jacket she wore a little loosely on her shoulders, she grabs one that was slipping off the plate with her mouth without taking her eyes off her game. (A small muffle of approval from her end.)

Lastly was Blade, who smiled at you when you approached. You thought it would be the iconic smirk, the one with 500 edits of and plastered everywhere on billboards and magazines but something about it felt genuine. He took a cookie and thanked you for your kindness, and as you returned to Jing Yuan's side, that smile of his was engraved into your mind.

But seems like you're on a clueless streak, as Jing Yuan and Blade have a glaring contest from across the table after that small interaction. Blade was well aware of how fond your boss secretly was of you, how he knew is beyond him, but it was certainly pissing him off with the unnoticable advances Blade was making.

"(name), would you mind fetching our guests a glass of water? I'm sure they'll need it, as there's plenty more to have." He smiles when you nod and leave the room, as obedient as always.

"I believe our intention was to keep this purely business, old friend." Blade smirked, crossing his arms as Jing Yuan interlocks his fingers, keeps them near his lips and rests his arms on his desk.

"It was my intention, then you looked at my assistant."

#✹ ִֶָ ꐑꐑ entos paw prints #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #blade hsr x reader #jing yuan hsr x reader #jing yuan x reader #blade x reader

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lord-of-the-prompts · 1 year

Text

HORROR/THRILLER/SUSPENSEFUL STORY SETTINGS AND PLOT IDEAS:

[Feel free to use any prompt that shouts out to you! I would very much appreciate a tag if you post a story that was inspired by a prompt of mine! Happy writing everyone!]

amusement park (where the ride breaks down with everyone trapped on them, and there is a killer loose in the park…)

art gallery (where paintings trap visitors inside the frame and force them relive the scene the painting was based on...)

aquarium (where the protagonist gets trapped inside one of the shark tanks...)

basement (where the basement floods, there’s no way out, and there’s something weird swimming in the water…)

blood bank (where a blood bank is run by a vampire cult…)

board game cafe (where a group of teenagers are forced to play a game of snakes and ladders in real life, with real snakes and real ladders…)

bunker (where the captor holds his victim hostage in an old bunker and convinces the girl that he is protecting her from a world apocalypse…)

car (where a taxi driver picks up the wrong person and fears he may never live to tell the tale…)

castle (where the gargoyles come to life and attack the royal family…)

circus (where everyone who is hypnotized by the magician turns into a member of his unholy cult…)

desert (where a group of travellers are swept away by a sand storm and wake up in a haunted oasis…)

dungeon (where the visitors pay to torture subjects and the subjects are paid to be tortured…)

farmhouse (where the scarecrow comes to life and attempts to create a new body for himself with the farming family’s bodies…)

forest (where a lone hiker is caught in a bear trap in the woods and unable to escape, the bear is close by…)

graveyard (where the dead buried at the local cemetery come back to life and all the living people in the town die, except for you…)

haunted house (where a house manages to kill anyone who enters it…)

hotel (where the concierge is a vampire with a thirst for his visitors’ blood…)

house (where the family home falls into a sinkhole that leads straight to hell…)

island (where a new species of insect is discovered, and when the travellers get bitten, they start mutating into bugs…)

jungle (where a group of explorers start disappearing one by one during a rescue mission deep in the jungle…)

library (where the ghost of character killed off in a series haunts anyone who reads the book…)

military base (where a group of soldiers end up face to face against their canines who have somehow turned into werewolves…)

opera house (where the killer murders the musicians with their instruments...)

operating theatre (where an unwilling subject wakes up part way through the operation and is unable to move no matter how hard they try...)

prison (where the inmates are released from their cells and the officers are locked up in their place, leaving them at the complete mercy of the prisoners…)

psychiatric ward (where patients are forced to fight to the death in padded cells…)

pyramid (where archeologists discover an ancient tomb and unleash an ancient curse…)

railroad (where a cowboy spends his final hours repenting his sins as he lays tied to a railroad track…)

research centre (where the subjects loose the ability to either see, hear, or speak…)

sewer (where a family takes cover in the sewers when a nuclear missile is headed towards the city…)

shipwreck (where divers explore an ancient shipwreck, but the pirates are very much still alive and do not take well trespassers…)

space (where there is an explosion on ship leaving the crew without enough oxygen, there are only four extra tanks left, but there are six people…)

submarine (where there's an unknown killer aboard and no way to escape the deep ocean...)

tavern (where a knight is seduced and kidnapped by a handmaid who plans on avenging he sisters murder in the most heartless of ways…)

underwater (where evil merpeople kidnap scuba divers...)

university (where a group of students engineers create an artificial intelligence that goes rogue and attempts to create a real life body out of human remains…)

virtual reality (where virtual reality becomes a true reality, and to escape, 10 players have to survive all levels of the game, but after every level, the loser dies…)

zoo (where the animals turn into zombies and attack their abusers…)

#writing prompt #writing ideas #writing tips #creative writing #writers of tumblr #writers block #writing things #writing #writing advice #prompt list #horror #thriller #suspense

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finnofamerica · 2 months

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Smile at the Bottom of the Bottle - Jack Sparrow x Reader | Smut

Summary: Jack cheers up the reader with a little special treat (A/n: lol)

Word Count: 780

Date Posted: 03.22.24

Prompt: Can i request a jack x reader were jack sees the reader having a bad day and decides to try and drink her/their (idc if its fem or neutral:D)troubles away. So jack tries to cheer them up and he turns it dirty;) if not that's okay to:)

TW: AFAB Language was used, with P in V penetration.

Note: N/a

🔞MINORS DO NOT INTERACT🔞

|| Masterlist || Request Here || Fandoms/ Characters || Req by @1deadpool26

Being part of Jack’s crew was always an adventure. There never seemed to be any rhyme or reason for his actions, yet somehow, things seemed to work out in his favor more often than not. Like Gibbs, you were loyal to Jack. Unlike Gibbs, your unwavering loyalty landed you marooned with Jack during the original mutiny.

And again, now after Barbossa dropped you, Jack, and Elizabeth on the very same island.

“Here,” Jack handed you a bottle, thunking down on the sand next to you and the small fire you had built. Elizabeth was out wanding the beach, doing god knows what; you didn’t care. It's not that you didn’t like Elizabeth; it's just that you didn’t care much about what she did. It’s the bed she made; she’s gotta lay in it.

“Thanks,” You took the bottle, taking a long swig. You didn’t have to tell Jack that it was a shitty day; he was feeling it too.

“Give me a smile, Love,” Jack caressed your cheek, “You know I hate it when you’re sad.”

“Not much to smile for, Jack,” you countered, shaking your head. “We’re stuck here again.”

“Aye, but we’re together.” He leaned in to whisper in your ear, kissing the lobe. You sighed, relaxing into his familiar touch. With his free hand, he stroked your bodice, making his way to your corset ties and undoing them swiftly. Once untied, he unclipped it, letting fall loose to the sand. “And I know what will make you smile.”

You rolled your eyes but made no move to stop him, letting undo the ties that held up your well-fitted trousers. Jack slid his hand down your pants, finding your sensitive clit with precision, using two fingers to rub it in slow, deliberate circles.

You couldn’t help the sigh that escaped your lips, rocking your hips up against his finger. You lost yourself in the feeling of him pressed against you as he continued to kiss down your neck to your collarbone, leaking little hickies and bruises in his wake, claiming you.

“You’re a tease,” You growled at him, “Man up and fuck me like you mean it.”

Jack just laughed at your frustration and pulled your pants around your ankles, making just enough space for him to get between them, repeating the action for his own trousers, freeing his long, thin member. He lined himself up with your entrance, sliding in with ease as you moaned. It had been a while since the last time he’d sunk his cock in you; you had missed the feeling.

He gripped your hips, propping them up against his, forcing you to lay back on the sand. Jack rocked gently into you, allowing you to warm up to his intrusion. Slowly but steadily, he began picking up the pace, sloppily kissing anywhere he could reach.

“Jack,” You moaned, hiding your face in your arm. His hand shot out, gripping your jaw as he forced your eyes to his.

“Don’t hide,” His smile bordered on sadistic. “I want to see your pretty face as you moan for me.”

Jack adjusted his positioning, hitting that spot that never failed to make you squeal and writhe beneath him. It felt amazing, but purposely, it wasn’t enough to get you to tumble over that edge. It only got you riled up until you were teetering on the edge of the cliff, waiting for the gust of wind to send you over.

“I swear, Jack, if you don’t make me cum, I will shoot you,” You threatened, arching you back into him, craving more than he was giving you.

Again, he laughed, reaching under your shirt to tease your taut nipples. Every pinch sent waves of painful pleasure through your body, right down to where that hot coil was tightening at the base of your stomach.

“Fuck, Jack,” You moaned again, brows furrowed in concentration, willing yourself to fall over that edge. You let out slow breaths, each inhale making your pleasure burn hotter, and the coil tightens. “Fuck, Jack, I’m gonna cum.”

“Come for me,” Jack demands as you stumble over the cliff, the coil bursting as aftershocks roll through you. Your pussy clenches around his cock as you spasm, the sensation forcing him to the edge.

Swiftly, Jack pulls out, only managing to stroke himself once or twice before he spurts thick beads of cum over your exposed stomach. He collapsed next to you, using his shirt to clean you up.

“I knew I’d make you smile.” He grabbed the abandoned bottle, taking a long swig. You just hummed in response, eyes closed in satisfaction, a soft smile on your lips.

“I guess you did.”

Tags: @1deadpool26

#Jack Sparrow X Reader #pirates of the caribbean x reader #pirates of the caribbean #finn writes #03.22.24

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ayyy-pee · 2 years

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Discord 18+ - Twitter - JJK Masterlist

Pairing: Suguru Geto x Female Reader

Summary: Your boss doesn’t ask much of you - meet your deadlines, show up on time and don’t fuck any of your colleagues (that aren’t him).

Warnings: Smut, Vaginal Sex, Spit as Lube, Fingering, Breeding Kink, Creampie, Possessive Sex, Possessive Behavior, Jealous Crazy Suguru of course, Door fucking???, Jealous Behavior, Rough Sex, Office Relationship, Secret Relationship

Suguru Art By: B0000M

Could this shit be any more boring?

You cover your mouth, trying to hide your snicker as you read the note your coworker shows you on his notepad. You’re in the middle of an important meeting that your boss is presenting. A very handsome, tall man with long brown hair tied up in a loose bun and cat-like eyes that seemed to always hold a bit of mischief in them.

The meeting was in fact so goddamn boring, you were finding it hard to keep your eyes open. Your coworker was the only thing making these even remotely bearable with his funny notes. You scribbled a response back in your notebook and slid it over to him, prompting a low chuckle from him. The sound of someone clearing their throat at the front of the room grabbed your attention. Your eyes widen as you make eye contact with your boss who is glowering at you and your coworker. He calls your names, his voice not hiding his annoyance.

“Something you’d like to share?” He asks.

You shake your head, your coworker apologizing profusely.

“You sure? Clearly it’s important enough that you can’t be bothered to pay attention to what’s going on here.”

“No, Mr. Geto,” You speak up. “I apologize. It won’t happen again.”

The silence hangs in the air for what feels like an eternity before he resumes his presentation.

Later that day, you’re enjoying your lunch in the break room with the same coworker from the meeting. You’re idly chatting with each other about mundane things - deadlines, projects, how shitty the company provided breakfast at the meeting was when your boss walks in. He pays you both no mind, instead making his way to the coffee machine to brew a fresh cup. Your coworker begins fidgeting nervously and you assume it’s because of your boss’s presence. It’s not.

His fingers tap the side of his cup before he begins speaking.

“Hey so, I-I’ve been trying to work up the courage to ask you this for a while now.” He mutters and you find yourself watching your boss from the corner of your eye not missing the tension building in his shoulders.

“Ask me what?”

Your coworker squares his shoulders, taking a deep breath as he continues.

“Do you want to get dinner sometime?” He asks. His cheeks are so red and if you look closely enough, you can see the beads of sweat building on his forehead.

“O-oh, with you and the team?”, you ask, not wanting to assume. He shakes his head, laughing nervously.

“Well, not really. I was thinking more like just you and me. Like a date.” He states. Why did he have to choose now to do this? This was so uncomfortable. Your coworker is not unattractive in the least, but unfortunately you only saw him as a friend. You’re about to tell him as much when the sound of metal colliding with metal rings through the room and nearly causes you to jump out of your skin. Both your heads snap over to your boss, who is already watching you both, a smile stretched across his face that doesn’t look anything remotely close to genuine.

“Sorry,” he sighs out. His feline eyes bore into you as he brings his mug up to his mouth. You watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows his coffee.

“My spoon slipped out of my hand into the sink. Excuse me.” He makes his way toward the door before whipping around and calling your name. “Oh, Y/N! Could you please forward me those proposals ASAP? Now, if you don’t mind.”

“Sure, Mr. Geto. I’ll get right on that.” You reply. You know it’s not a request, it’s a demand. You excuse yourself from lunch and apologize to your coworker who doesn’t bother to hide his disappointment from your lack of an answer.

—————

The rest of your day flies by. You’re exhausted, taking the elevator up to your apartment as you let the day's events play back in your mind. You hope your boss isn’t too mad at you about what happened in the meeting that morning. He hadn’t said anything to you, but the small interactions you’d had throughout the day only added to this lingering feeling you had that he was upset with you. You make a mental note to apologize to him formally in the next meeting just in case.

You slip your key into your front door, stepping into your apartment and closing the door behind you. You barely have time to react before your back is slammed against the door and a pair of lips are on your neck, a hand gripped in your hair.

“Ah- fuck , Suguru,” you cry out, mostly from shock. Your hands fly up to run through his own hair, now loose from the usual bun he donned for work. Suguru pulls back, just enough to look at you before his lips curl up into a snarl. At home, he’s so different, relaxed, funny and doting. At home, he’s your boyfriend. At work, he’s stiff, strict and by the book. At work, he’s your boss.

“But Y/N, let me take you on a date. I wanna take you to dinner, maybe take you back to my place and fuck you with my micropenis”, he mocks your coworker from your earlier conversation at lunch. You knew it. You knew he was upset about something, but you figured it was about you goofing around during his presentation. You should’ve known better.

“Stop it”, you chide. “He didn’t even say anything close to that!”

He snorts. “He might as well have. I see him. Everyday”, he says through gritted teeth. “Fucking monkey always ogling you, talking to you, flirting with you, trying to touch what doesn’t belong to him, what’s mine .”

He’s back on your neck, kissing and sucking, marking anywhere he can and you’re positive you’ll have to wear a turtleneck into the office tomorrow. You don’t stop him. Instead, you tilt your head to the side giving him more room to work with as you begin to pant. You can feel the wetness pooling between your legs and he’s barely done anything.

“What do you expect, Suguru? No one knows we’re together. At your insistence, let me remind you. It was your choice.” He sucks a new mark into your neck, nipping at it hard and groaning loudly when you yelp at the sharp pain.

“What I expect,” he pauses to kiss your throat, grinning when your grip on his hair tightens, “what I expect is for my girlfriend who I live with to open her pretty little mouth and say no when some monkey at the office tries to get in her pants.”

You nod your head, unable to think straight while his mouth works its way down your neck. His fingers are on your blouse, deftly unbuttoning it until it's wide open, exposing your bra to him. He pulls back at your lack of response giving you a confused pout.

“Unless you want him to get in your pants?” He asks seriously. Suguru watches your face for anything that’ll give away that you like your coworker in any way other than as a friend. When he finds nothing, his mouth crashes into yours, all his jealousy being poured into a searing kiss.

“You’re so stupid when you’re jealous”, you breathe when he pulls away. Your hands move to glide under his shirt, fingers grazing over his defined muscles and you sigh thinking about just how fucking hot he is.

Suguru reaches down, grabbing the hem of your skirt and pulling it up until it’s sitting at your waist. He slides his hand into your panties, hissing when he feels how drenched you are.

“Shit, you’re soaking wet baby”, he groans. His fingers run through your wet folds finding your clit and rubbing light circles. You cry out, your nails digging into Suguru’s core and dragging them down. He cries out with you, reveling in the pleasure that follows the pain. He presses his face into your neck as one of his fingers finds your entrance, wasting no time pushing into it. Your mouth opens with a gasp as Suguru pumps into you, curling his finger until he finds your sweet spot.

And he finds it in no time, pressing down and pulling his face back to watch the tears form at the corners of your eyes like they always do when he finds it. He beams with satisfaction watching you roll your hips forward, seeking any type of friction. You whine in frustration when you don’t find any.

“Sugu, please .”

“You think”, Suguru speaks casually as your hips buck forward, “You think what’s his face at the office thinks about doing this to you?”

“ What? ” You gasp out. You don’t want to think about him right now. The only thing on your mind is fucking your boyfriend.

“I bet he does. I can tell by the way he tries to discreetly fix his pants when he’s done watching your tight little ass leave the room. He thinks no one sees him, but I do.”

He slides another finger into your entrance and you mewl loudly, hips coming up again for another attempt to find friction and again getting none. He keeps his ministrations going, curling and curling, pressing and pressing on your spot. It’s getting harder to focus, harder to breathe, but Suguru keeps going. His eyes roam your face, taking in your eyes blown out with lust, your messy hair, the sheen on your kiss swollen lips - a mixture of both your saliva.

You look wrecked and Suguru moans before he presses another sloppy kiss to your mouth. His free hand wraps around your jaw, holding you in place as he runs his tongue across your lip, seeking entrance. You grant it to him with no question and he claims your mouth greedily. He runs his tongue against yours, groaning into your mouth at the taste of you.

Suguru pulls back, lips hovering just above yours. He presses his palm to your clit and you let out a choked sob when you finally get the friction you’d been seeking. He sighs dreamily, pressing his mouth back to yours, speaking against them.

“He’d probably cum right in his pants if he saw the look on your face right now.”

He rubs his palm against your sensitive nub and you keen into his mouth, hips rolling forward in a relentless rhythm, riding Suguru’s hand while he claims your mouth again. Your hands are in his hair, tangling his soft tresses around your fingers.

You can feel yourself getting closer to the edge, your breaths becoming more and more ragged as Suguru pumps his fingers in and out, in and out. Your hips are losing speed, the pleasure making you short circuit until Suguru’s free hand grabs onto you and rocks you back and forth against his palm himself.

“Don’t fucking stop”, he commands. And you move, your pussy tightening around his fingers. He presses his face back into your neck, kissing and sucking his way up to your ear where he whispers, “Cum for me, baby.”

Your head falls back, mouth open in a silent scream as your walls clamp down on Suguru’s fingers. He groans, teeth clenched as he continues pumping into you.

“Fuck. Baby, so fucking tight ”, he grits out. “Fuck, I can’t wait anymore.”

You nod dumbly, still coming down from your orgasm as he pulls his hands from your panties and slips them into the waistband of them, dragging them to the floor. You step out of them, your hands fumbling with his belt until you’ve finally got it undone. Suguru slaps your hands away impatiently, pulling his own pants down to his knees. His cock springs free, angry and red, dripping precum down the shaft. Suguru places a wet kiss on your lips before he grabs your hips and spins you around. He presses you against the door, pulling your hips back to meet his.

He wraps his hand around his cock, pumping it one, two, three times before he slides the tip through your folds. You moan, still sensitive from your last release.

“Your little friend at work will never know what this feels like. He’ll never have you. You’re mine . Say it.”

He presses the tip of his length into your entrance, slowly sinking in. “ Say it ”, he growls.

“Fuck! I’m yours, Suguru!” You cry out, earning a deep groan from him.

He wraps a hand in your hair, pulling your head back at a harsh angle so he can look at you. It’s so uncomfortable, but you love it anyway. Suguru sinks into you, bending down to kiss you as he bottoms out, moaning his pleasure into your throat.

Your walls clench down on his cock and he moans again before he starts to move, pounding into you at an unrelenting pace. With his free hand, Suguru drags the cups of your bra down, freeing your breasts. The cool air against them causes your nipples to harden and Suguru takes one of your nipples between his fingers and twists. You cry out his name and he keeps moving, never letting up.

“That’s right, baby. Say my name.” He lets his hold on your hair go and relief washes over you as the pain in your neck recedes. He’s panting possessive obscenities while he presses you harder against the door with each rough thrust.

“No one will ever get to know what it feels like to be in this pussy. Only me. Only me. Only me ”, he grunts, mostly talking to himself now. You feel Suguru’s large hands leave your breasts and grab on to the flesh of your ass. He spreads your cheeks open, hissing at the view.

“Baby, baby, baby. Fuck. Now when I see this, I can understand why your little friend wants you so goddamn bad. I mean- ah - shit, you’re perfection.” He purses his lips together, and you hear the loud smack of his spit hitting your asshole before you feel it. It slides down to where you and Suguru are connected, only adding to the wetness and Suguru’s hips stutter as he continues slamming into your pussy. You moan against the door, feeling your core tighten. You’re so close again. You open your mouth to tell Suguru.

“Sugu, I’m cl-“

“I’m so fucking close”, Suguru grunts, interrupting you as he leans forward, placing a hand against the door on each side of your head. Your palms are splayed out right beneath his, holding on for dear life as Suguru somehow pounds into you impossibly harder, faster.

You’re moaning wantonly now, the loud smacking noises of Suguru’s groin meeting your ass echoing throughout the apartment, adding to your pleasure. He dips down, pressing kisses down the side of your head as he tells you how you belong to him, how your pathetic coworker could never hope to ever put his hands on you. He reaches down, his fingers finding your clit and he rubs rough circles on it. And it’s true. You’re Suguru’s in and outside of this apartment whether anyone knows it or not. The thought brings you over the edge.

You squeeze your eyes shut as your second orgasm hits you and you scream Suguru’s name into the door, your pussy squeezing down on him so tight he yells out a loud “Godfuckingdamnit” before his hips are stuttering again. He thrusts into you over and over before he’s following your lead, crying out your name and wrapping his arm around your waist to hold you tightly to him as his hot cum fills your pussy.

You stay pressed against the door together while you both try to catch your breath, Suguru still thrusting into you softly. He’s whispering how he loves you over and over as he runs his fingers through your hair. Kissing your head, your face, your neck, anywhere he can reach in this position.

When he finally pulls out of you with a hiss, he turns you around and presses a soft kiss to your lips. He rubs his nose along the bridge of yours and sighs.

“I can’t stand the thought of another man hitting on you at work”, he says openly, honestly. He takes your face in his hands, kissing you sweetly. “Let’s tell everyone at work about us tomorrow.”

You nod up at him in agreement, content to let everyone know who it is you belong to.

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multiwreckedmess · 8 months

Text

Kinktober Day 7

Prompt: Virginity Pairing: Stablehand!Minho(Lee Know) x fem!reader WC: 4.7k (ish) Summary: Laundry day, the watercooler of maidens, maids, and matrons. When faced with the harsh reality of what being a wife means, you ask your old friend Minho to help break you in a bit. A prequel my Two Princes series. You can read it without the context (as it is a prequel and thus before the events of that series) but it’s the same world. If you’ve read the series, it’s not SUPER tied or needed as context but it was a little thought i had when working on chapter 2 or 3 that I’d started to write at the same time.

This is a work of fiction, it does not represent Minho or any Stray Kids member. On top of this it is an 18+ work. For my comfort and boundaries please if you are under age do not interact with this.

Additional TW/CW Under the cut

TW/CW: Minho calls reader “little chick” and one “good girl”, unprotected penetration, bodily fluids, very VERY aggressively consent driven like tons of asking if everything is okay.

TBH after last week’s prompt i needed something fluffy. It’s hard for me to come up with TW/CW outside of “they fuck consensually and nicely and fuck stuff happens.” Minho is a little bit of a teasing jerk i guess but in the most fluffy careful way possible.

Pulling your skirts between your thighs you run from the kitchen, out alongside the fence of the small doctor’s garden, and onto the dirt road to the stables. Mind made up, you couldn’t slow yourself down now. You knew you only had precious few hours to catch him and daylight was dwindling. It wasn’t your fault, it was the matron’s who’d found your posture during the tea service “inadequate” and kept you late as punishment. Huffing and puffing the stables near, no man nor horse in sight. You pick up the pace as much as you can, knocking furiously at the side door. Sweat dripping and hairs all out of place, the matron would’ve scolded you for showing up to anyone’s door this way. In all honesty her scolding would’ve started much before then, if she’d found out just whose door you were pounding on. A man swings open the top half of the door, vest loose and sweat just beginning to soak through his white undershirt. He licks his lips and smiles. “Well, well, well. It’s been some time, little chick, since you last called.” “Minho, I need you to take me.” You don’t mince words with him. You know not to. His eyebrows shoot up, head shaking with confusion. The lower half of the door swings free, smacking loosely against your legs. “I’m concerned and intrigued,” he says, beckoning you in.

Earlier in the week you’d made up your mind. You needed to lose it. When the older women had already headed back with their linens already hung neatly, the younger had stayed chatting a while longer. It wasn’t known what exactly started the conversation but if you were a betting woman you’d assume it was the rumor of a woman’s pregnancy only lasting a total of 5 months. Betrothed to a wealthy baron of the town and assumed a virgin, she’d quickly inflated with child upon sealing their vows. You’d expected giggles of disapproval but instead saw quiet shrugs. “It’s like that sometimes,” one of the girls shrugs. “It’s probably best she went into that marriage knowing rather than it being her first.” “I’d rather have it done by someone handsome and rugged and marry well later. She got a good deal there. Risky but a deal,” another concurred. “Isn’t there value in learning together?” Your voice quivers slightly as you try to speak up. The girls blink back at you, like you’re an alien. “Sure, but it’s a risk.” “It’s expected but, to be upfront with you, I don’t know that I’d endorse it. Most men can’t button their own breeches in the morning, you can’t expect them to know what to do as it comes to women’s ways.” You nod solemnly, hoping they didn’t press further into your history. Or what history you could claim. Mostly you’d learned from word of mouth or the occasional poorly discarded dirty pamphlet. Until that summer you’d assumed to most you were invisible, that was until your body grew into itself like a puppy growing into it’s ears. Even then a couple quick pecks behind an arras was nothing to boast about.

Sliding the lock behind you, Minho pulls himself up on a gate, stretching his arms long to pull down the ladder to the loft. It had been ages since you’d last been in a place with him alone. Growing up under the watchful eyes of the castle as children inside the walls you’d been able to run freely around with him, a plethora of adults there to intervene if the two of you got into trouble. One to stick more to the shadows, he always pulled you into the sunlight. Coaxing you into his outdoor adventures, finding creatures to befriend and forging for snacks. The matron hated this of course, but you were a child before you were a girl. Somewhere along the line it shifted, becoming a girl first and foremost. Minho changed too. Hopping down and landing softly in a cloud of dirt, he brushes himself off. “Ladies first, little chick.” Hands on the ladder you begin to pull yourself up. Feet barely past the second wrung, Minho comes in behind you, bracing the sides of the ladder, face close to your lower back. “Won’t you be able to see up my skirt that way?” You turn and ask, eyes narrowed. “Oh now you want to talk about modesty? When you were just at my gate shouting about bedding down.” Everything is phrased as a joke but his expression is serious. It’s hard to tell if you should laugh or not. “If I don’t stabilize the ladder and you tumble ass over kettle the matron will have much more of me than my head so I suggest you scurry on up, for the both of our sakes.” He smiles, patting your butt lightly.

The loft has a low ceiling but wide footprint. It’s dimly lit but charming nevertheless. Minho has all he needs. A wash basin, chest of drawers, full length mirror, a bedside table with a small lamp. The bed is paradoxically huge and luxurious, albeit on the ground, but the biggest you’d seen outside of the guest’s quarters. “I don’t have a place to sit but-” Minho’s head pokes over the edge of the flooring as you gasp. “The bed is comfortable. I caught it as they were turning over a room and smuggled it up here myself. Almost passed out trying to pull it up.” You flop dramatically down, the boning in your bodice restricting your waist movement, freezing you in perfect vertical lines rather than letting your body naturally curve. Sitting bolt upright your lungs feel like they are in your throat, your feet hang off the side of the bed to keep your dirt laden shoes from the comforter. “It’s nice,” you bleat. “Soft.” Wordlessly Minho kneels by your feet, pulling the laces loose and slipping your feet free of their confines. He looks up at you and your heart skips, his hands are rough on your stockings but somehow you don’t really mind. His expression quickly snaps to a devilish grin as he smacks your feet onto the mattress. “You can get comfortable then, little chick. Am I a stranger?” He stands quickly and moves to the washbasin, scrubbing the days work from his hands. “You aren’t a stranger but,” you sigh deeply or as deeply as the bodice allows. “It’s been-” “We’ve changed,” he nods, shuffling off his shoes and collapsing back into the other side of the bed. “Physically I mean. But what’s this about me ‘taking’ you? What has you all in a tizzy, little chick? Showing up at the stables asking for-” You smack his arm and take as deep a breath as you can manage, “I heard a rumor,” you trail off. “About me? Or you? Or someone else?” He barrages you for details. “Let me get to it Minho! So bothersome, gosh.” You wince as you try to breathe again, leaning back to your elbows to give your organs more room to shift and relieve your lungs. His hand comes to your shoulder and lightly presses you forward. “It’s tight right? Let me-” he pulls at the knot at the base of your spine, pulling each cross at your back loose. “Oh AH,” you moan and slump forward as the bodice releases. “The matron-” “That bitch,” he whispers under his breath, tickling your shoulder, just loud enough that you can hear it. You giggle and lean back again. “Yeah, the matron said that if I laced it tighter I wouldn’t have such problems with my posture and took the opportunity to correct the matter.” “So, back to the rumor you heard. Me, you, someone else? Why are you in my loft, in my bed, and allowing me to undress you?” You roll your eyes at the ceiling. “Fine,” you huff, “First, the rumor was about this baron’s wife who spent only a few months pregnant before birthing the healthiest baby boy the midwife had ever seen. We got to talking and, well, there was a debate.” Minho turns on his side, leaning over you slightly, just in your peripheral vision. “A debate? About me?” “Not everything is about you, Minho, let me continue!” You spit back in frustration. “Anyway, the topic of trying the milk before buying the cow came up-” “Virgin 'til the wedding night or sneaking off into a hay bale. I see.” “Not a hay bale!” You smack his thigh lightly. “But yes, essentially. Should a woman be a little learned in the ways of the world or an innocent. The more the group talked about it the more I thought. Well it was a dumb thought. I worried,” you stutter, suddenly unable to get your thoughts out under his watchful gaze. “It’s nice to see you again.” “All this talk of bedding down and you thought of your long friend Minho,” a smile creeps across his face. “What a strange little chick you are.” “If you must know Minho, it wasn’t a fully innate thought of mine. Your name was mentioned. Positively.” He smiles softly and flops onto his back. Both of you staring at the ceiling in silence for a moment. “I suppose, I train people to ride horses…” he drifts off.

You thought laying in silence with a man might be awkward, especially after confessing your motives to him. With Minho it wasn’t. Ears full of the soft sounds of the horses heavy breaths below you instead of idle chatter. It was easy to imagine laying for hours letting your mind wander the landscape of sounds. “So, little chick, truthfully, which did you want to investigate more? My aptitude or..” “My problem. Or, it’s not a problem but, my…lack of experience. I trust you more than any man and to hear others tell it, my trust in this matter wouldn’t be misplaced.” “Ah,” his small noise of acknowledgement is all you get from him. Your stomach twists and plummets to rock bottom. Some part of your imagination expected him to leap on top of you and rip your clothes off. His chill attitude is hard to read, you don’t even know if he’s agreeable to it. “I was hoping maybe you’d…if today would be okay?” You ask and want to die. “Right, yeah,” he turns over again to loom at your side. “I will absolutely comply with your request but I need you to be honest with me. Are you completely untouched? Truly and totally?” You nod, ears burning, you turn away from him to hide the embarrassed expression you wore. “That’s the…I don’t even know where to start. I wouldn’t know where to start.” His calloused fingers trace your forearm, small goosebumps prickling in his wake. “Well, we can start slow. You will tell me what you like, what you don’t, where to stop and I, in turn, will make it well worth both our time.” “Really?” You spin around to face him, excited, mood totally lifted. He’s smirking to himself, an unrecognizable glimmer in his eye. Your heart beats out of your chest, tongue tied into knots. He’d always been Minho, your Minho. You’d seen him up close plenty of times but you’d never really looked at him like this. Strong nose, strong cheekbones, strong brow, strong jaw, everything about him was quietly strong. Even the line of his muscles below his shirt were long and lean, perfect for horseriding. “Do you want me to undress you then? Or will you do it yourself? Some like the power of choosing what to reveal, others prefer the careful caress of another’s hands. You could start yourself and have me assist you or…” “You. You please.” You sit up again, shuffling your back to him, offering your laces. Every move he makes is languid, like moving through thick molasses. The string pops through the eyelets until the contraption falls forward, freeing you. He waits, gaging your reaction with a watchful eye. You’re unflinching, steadfast in your resolve. “Some men, are not as gentle as me. Trying to keep your composure, your heart leaps to your throat. “Oh, I-” you stutter, unsure of the response to give. “I’m known on occasion to not be so gentle too. If you would like, I can be with you too.” His tone is smooth as his hand travels down the soft cotton of your chamise. You’d never imagined how good a simple touch could feel, as though every nerve along your spine was sparking asynchronously, like a fire spitting tiny flames. “Oh err, I suppose just, this? This is good, yeah.” You lean back into his palm, eyes closing. Minho watches your face relax. Jaw unclenching and brow melting as he reaches the base of your spine, briefly stiffening as he loses contact to start back at the nape of your neck again. “I’m going to take off your skirts and stockings now, sweetheart.” He directs you, hands working at the knots that hold your skirt, waistbands loosening and falling around your hips. “I’ll need your help the rest of the way.” Sliding back into the sheets, your hold your hips up to let him drag the skirts off in one bunch. “I’ve heard you use this tone before. With the horses,” you laugh nervously. “Humans and horses aren’t so different,” he mutters under his breath, mildly annoyed with the perceived slight. “Both require respect to be ridden well. Respect, confidence, and trust. Otherwise one might hurt the other.” His words are reverent as he looks down at you. The orange hue of the late afternoon sun warms his skin, lips open ever so slightly. You realize his hand his placed carefully on your cotton covered bent knee. With so much as a flick of his wrist he could reveal you, the thought of which has your entire system vibrating on edge. Instead he maintains eye contact as his palm presses the fabric to you, slowly but surely guiding it down your thighs. It’s enough to have your body on fire, chest heavy as you remember to breathe. The way you lean into Minho’s touch has him more turned on than he cares to admit. This entire experience was about you. It was not about him. It was a favor to you, not something for him to take advantage of. Yet he couldn’t help the pit of guilt twisting his stomach, almost relishing in the feeling. Your knees knock together cutely as the last bit of slip falls to your hips, leaving only your stockings for warmth. Your eyes could bore holes in him the way they are fixed on his lips. With a chuckle his hands run the length of your thighs, parting them and stripping back the last vestiges of fabrics on your lower half. “You want me to kiss you? I can kiss you.” “Yes!” You practically yelp, tingling turning to burning turning into bursting in your gut. The press of his lips to your inner thigh is like salve, sensation just as intense as your back arches up and away from the mattress. “I like that. I like it a lot,” you pant as he hovers, waiting for you. “Have you ever touched yourself?” His eyes flick to your pussy, legs akimbo and fully exposed. You start to shake your head no and catch yourself, the shock of sudden embarrassment sending jets of cold down your spine. Could he tell? Could a man tell? “Not touched but I found this…lewd pamphlet in the trash…” you begin, forcing yourself to focus as his lips slowly travel towards your sex. Minho hums to indicate he’s still listening as he teases you. “...so I read that pamphlet and my stomach felt funny and the only thing that made it feel better was sliding my pillow between my thighs-” A millimeter away from kissing your cunt he stops abruptly to look up at you with a grin. “Naughty, naughty, sneaking away with crass material to waste yourself on a pillow,” he laughs. “So never in yourself? Just riding your pillow.” He can barely contain his excitement, hand cupping you, middle and ring finger slowly stroking around your slit. Slowly he works his middle finger into your hole, tighter and wetter than he’d thought it could be. His digit moves with your hard breaths, stroking just barely inside of you. “I’m going to stretch you out a bit. How does this feel?” “Like you’re petting my belly button from the inside,” you squirm, every other word catching for a second in your throat. A second finger slips in alongside the first, eased by the gathering wetness. The pressure is strange at first, not painful but not comfortable. Not until Minho presses the heel of his palm to your throbbing mound, grinding it down as your eyelids flutter in delight. “You can moan if you want, if it feels good.” Your mouth hangs dumbly, hips naturally working with his hand. “I don’t know how!” You pant as your ride his hand. “You don’t?” Minho’s voice lilts with false sympathy. “You seem to be doing just fine with this. Just relax, no one can hear you out here. No one but me.” Eyes closed you don’t even realize you’re moving in sync with him, face scrunching cutely. You follow him blindly, chasing an unknown feeling on a strange path. Suddenly your stomach swoops, eyes flying open with a gasp as your entire body tingles warmly. Legs snapping shut on his body, you wriggle away from the stimulation. “I think I died. I think I’m going to pass out. What was that,” you ask. Your vision feels slow, body foggy, heart beating both too fast and too slow. “Well the French call it the little death, if that helps.” Minho smiles and withdraws his glistening hand, holding in the light like a trophy. “Most oafs can’t do that, you know, that’s why all your little friends can’t keep quiet about me. They just go about blinding, inserting themselves and pounding away. Idiots. Animals.”

Minho turns completely away for the first time since you got into his bed. Tugging the white shirt free, his back looks strong, stronger than you remember it being. Not that you thought about it much back then, him or his back. But now it was the only thing on your mind. Pulling off his shirt his thumbs hook into the top of his drawers, pausing. “You’ve…seen a man before right,” he asks over his shoulder. “You know what a cock looks like.” You can’t help the small nervous giggle that passes your lips. “I’ve seen one, yeah,” you reply with your stomach all aflutter. You’d seen them in passing or in paintings but not so closely. It feels surreal to think on the other side of him is that sort of thing. “You know you should never giggle at a man in such a precarious position,” he scolds. “Now do you want to do it or shall I? We can stop now if you’re too nervous.” Minho really hopes you aren’t too nervous. With the time and effort he spent prepping you he’d inadvertently wound himself up as well, teetering on the edge of discomfort as his swollen cock pulses in its confines. God, the sheer thought you might take him up on his offer to stop here has his stomach swooping, playful expression turned serious. Sucking in your breath and closing your eyes, “you. You do it. And tell me when. And then I’ll look.” Nose scrunched and adorable, he smiles again. “Okay little chick, we’ll do it your way then. I’m going to unbutton my breeches, slide them off, and then you can open your eyes, or tell me to sod it and put everything back on.” Slowly his fingers slip the buttons through their eyelets, hissing with relief as his shaft springs free. He’s more naked than you now, although not by much, your chest still covered by your chamise. Fighting a smile as he looks at your both eager and apprehensive expression he announces his state of dress to you. Cracking an eye open you see it, briefly and blurry. Instinct snaps you eyelid closed with a jump. Sheer curiosity gets the better of you quickly, screwing your courage up to open both of your eyes on your next exhale. “Oh wow,” you inhale sharply, eyebrows lifting with your lids. A few stiff blinks have your eyes cleared “It’s…you’re…” you can’t find the right words. He’s not like the paintings of men or sculptures or those you’d seen in passing, all of which had them loosely hanging, passive between their thighs. This, this is different. Veiny, thick, truly a muscle pointing proudly up and out from his stomach. The boost to his ego is unimaginable as you stare agog. Even knowing it was your first didn’t seem to fight back his swelling pride. “Want to touch it?” It twitches as he talks. You hadn’t even realized you’d slowly raised forward from the sheets to look closer at it. Taking your hand in his he guides you to it until you’re naturally curling your fingers, around it. It’s softer than you thought it could be, velveteen and warm. The veins and muscle making ridges and grooves all down the shaft you stroke it slowly, face full of wonderment. Minho sighs deeply, shuddering. Though you don’t know the details of a successful handjob your eager curiosity makes up for it. A shiny bead gathers just on the slit, your thumb rubbing over it and smearing the substance over the head.

“As lovely as your hand is, I think we have other matters to attend to,” Minho says and pushes you back to the mattress. “You’re lucky I have some oil for just this sort of occasion.” He produces a small bottle from the opposite side of his bed, uncorking it and dribbling a small amount along his length. “You’re still sure?” He checks again, pumping his fist along his shaft to coat himself. “You’ve done so well today, there’s no shame in it. Ever. Even when it’s not with me.” “Minho please, I’m not so little anymore. I’m not a child. It’s my decision. I want you. I want you to fuck me. I want you to be my first. I trust you. Can you just…do it already?” He half laughs, more huffs at your frustrated outburst. “Yeah, I wouldn’t be doing this if I thought you were.” “Then WHY?” “You’re really cute when you’re frustrated with me,” his smirk sends your heart flutter as he closes in on you. He hoists your hips with one arm and places a pillow beneath your hips, the display of raw strength sending the pack of butterflies from your heart into your sex. The blunt pressure of his cock, poised at your entrance, has your toes wriggling. Your expression opens into something between ecstasy and agony as his hips press forward. A half caught grunt escapes your throat from someone deep in your gut. The stretch isn’t the most painful, it just feels so foreign it catches you off guard. Suddenly acutely aware of how little space there is between organs there’s still a dull ache as your walls adjust. “Hu-hurts a bit.” Your knees catch his hips to keep him from going any deeper. “Let me distract you.” He starts pulling up your chamise, yanking it over your head with an urgency not yet seen from him. You don’t think your breasts are anything special to look at, especially splayed akimbo as they are. Yet Minho’s eyes say otherwise. Minho’s mouth says otherwise, attaching to your neck, mouthing away at your soft skin. Your body reacts autonomously, hips rolling back and forth on his half speared cock. Nipples pebbled, his tongue lathes over one, rolling the other between his fingers. “Oh, oh, ohhhh lord,” you gasp and moan. “It’s good oh fuck Minho, it’s good.” Grin grazing your oversensitive nipple he pushes his hips the final length in and stills, trying to keep himself from cumming immediately inside of you. Hot, tight, wet, he’s almost delirious with need as he hears your punched out groan. Releasing your tit with a pop he leans back to enjoy his handiwork. Impaled, your hair is wild on the pillow, chest rising and falling as you fuck yourself helplessly on his stiffened member. “It’s like you were made to take cock, you’ve already got the hang of it.” “Feels good,” are the only words you can blubber out dumbly in response. Your half hearted excuse. “More, need more.” “One man can’t exactly give that,” he chuckles. “You’re squeezing the sin from me, you know.” He groans as your walls flutter around him in a weak orgasm. He thrusts a couple times into you, noting how you meet each one, pelvis bouncing him deeper. As much as he loves when your chests touch, the intimacy of looking in your eyes, you asked for more. Taking what’s left of his strength he pulls from you, a look of shock and sadness crossing your face for a second.

“You’re going to ride me now, since you wanted more.” He says laying on his back. “Climb up buttercup, thighs on either side” he slaps his own thighs to indicate where he wants you. “Now what you’re going to do is take my shaft and slowly sink yourself on it.” He’s sticky with release but you oblige, eyelids fluttering as you sink down, swiveling and stirring him with your hips. Minho fights to keep his eyes open and watchful as a wave of ecstasy washes over him. “Now bounce on it, doesn’t need to be fast just the one pace.” His hands at your waist help manuver you, holding just enough to help keep the rhythm. And what a delicious rhythm, tits bouncing dramatically with each smack of your ass to his pelvis. Curses you’ve never heard nor had yet been invented flow from his mouth as you hands start to explore your body. You touch the source of the white hot heat, clit engorged and sensitive. Slowly you circle it in time with your bounces, as though winding a music box. “It’s happening again!” You whine and buck. “Minho, Minho, Minho, it’s happening!” Your bouncing stops, hips frantically grinding back and forth on him, hand trapped between you. Moaning and groaning your instinct takes over, working the man below you like an object. “That’s it, cum. Let it happen. Let it go. Cum on my cock like a good girl.” Its like he said the magic words, a floodgate opening as your walls flutter and bare down on him. He helps you along, holding you in place and fucking up into you through your climax, barely able to pull you off of him in time to spill his seed on his own soft tummy. It’s not a second too soon as you can hear the dinner chimes in the distance, the first reminder that you are being watched. “Damn it,” he says through clenched panting. “The matron-” “That bitch.”

A bit bedraggled you dash back up the dirt path as the third dinner bell rings, the last of the series, marking you officially late. Other than the dull ache of your cunt you feel no materially different. Still you wish you could’ve stayed in the loft for ages. Your thoughts cloud your once empty skull with anxieties. You really wish you could’ve stayed.

The light from a guest room shines down as you trot past the small kitchen garden. A man sitting by the window watches you, blonde hair haloed by the light. There’s something enchanting and honest about your disheveled state. Truthful to humanity. He had to see it closer. He had to be the cause of it. Taking out a pad of scratch paper he sketches quickly as he can, unprepared to attempt to capture your brand of beauty in quill and ink. He keeps the accompanying memo short; “a birthday idea.”

If you’re interested and HAVEN’T read Two Princes, it is linked in my masterlist. It’s FAR spicier so heed those warnings.

I felt a little weeeee bit rushed on this one but it was already so long, I might redo, I might not. IDK.

#lee minho smut #minho smut #lee know smut #stray kids smut #skz smut #skz kinktober #stray kids kinktober #kpop kinktober #kinktober #kinktober 2023

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ideas-4-stories · 2 months

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Cross guild romance prompt:

When S-Hawk and S-Croc are first brought to the Guild or taken in, they both bond with their adult organic counterparts. But they actually really REALLY love Buggy.

He has that energy of Safe For Children, he's actually really really good with kiddos, especially ones with trauma. He really became the kinda person he wanted and needed when he was a lil'un. Buggy really likes kids, honestly, he just doesn't interact with them much, especially lately what with his newfound notoriety. Back in the East, at least, he could go relatively under cover and set up a circus event. Now, he's got his hands tied with options.

Crocodile and Mihawk are both surprised by this but don't particularly care. So what if the clown can make balloon animals and makes the boys actually smile and laugh? He's just a clown. Clowns do that. Whatever.

It only comes to a head when, late one evening, Mihawk goes to check on the boys when he senses a strange disturbance. Buggy beat him there. The swordsman watches from the doorway as Birdie (his own seraphim, name pending, nickname in the meantime) sits on the clown's lap, rubbing tears from his eyes. Angel (Croc's seraphim, name pending, nickname in the meantime) is wrapped up against the clown's chest. The three are in the rocking chair, Buggy holding both of the boys close, comforting them with hands in hair or petting backs. And he's singing softly to them. It's a language Mihawk has never heard before, to his knowledge. Though it DOES remind him of some of the seemingly senseless babble from Shanks when he drank far too much. He stays in the shadows, watching. Observing. Memorizing.

He refuses to acknowledge the warmth in his chest as anything other than mild heartburn.

Crocodile is faced with a similar situation but very much different. It's midday for one. And there are no tears or need for comfort involved for another.

It was a cooler day, and he'd seen hide nor hair from the clown for more than a few hours. Truly, a horrific notion.

He ends up finding Buggy in the kitchen, hair in a messy bun and wearing an apron. The kids are with him as well, in oversized aprons. All three are a mess, laughing, flour and powdered sugar on her faces, aprons, in their hair. It's chaotic. It's loud. It's... happy.

Crocodile just watches for a bit, as the boys bounce and squeal over the dark chocolate and red velvet cake they made, Buggy gently walking them through piping designs. He chuckles when they make a mistake, nudges them with his hip and calls it "avant garde", waves off any concern. He's gentle with them as he guides tiny, deceptively soft little hands in loops and designs, laying out stencils and sifting powdered sugar to make shapes. It's cavity inducing.

Especially when Angel, hair held back with a headband decorated with frogs, looks up at Buggy and asks without hesitation, "Can we take some to Father and Papa, mama Bug?"

Crocodile tenses. His eyes go wide. Has the clown been coaching them, has he been-

Then he catches sight of Buggy blushing, staring wide eyed at Angel. "What did you call me, Angie?"

"Called you mama Bug. Why?"

Buggy kneels down, smiling softly despite the visible confusion. "Why did you call me that, gumdrop?"

Birdie chips in at that point, leaning to peek over his brother's shoulder. "Because you're Mama."

Buggy giggles, tucking a loose curl back. "I meant, where did you silly sweeties learn that?"

Both boys grin brightly. "Books! And that story book you read us all the time, the one with the princes and knights and dragons! Papa is the big dragon, and Father is the king!" They both turn blinding smiles at the clown. "And you're the queen! 'Cause the queen is nice and warm and fun and smart and pretty! And the queen is the princes' mama, so you're mama. Mamas are supposed to be nice and cozy and take care of us. Like you do! So you're mama!"

Buggy sniffles, smiling so fondly, so softly, it makes something in Crocodile thump roughly. He won't put a name to it. He refuses.

When Buggy cups the boys' cheeks, presses a kiss to their foreheads, the logia user turns on his heel and walks away.

<><>

Just. The seraphims up and deciding that the cross guild leaders are the parents and playing accidentally-on-purpose matchmakers. Mihawk and Crocodile angrily falling for the Clown because the introduction of children has opened a new face for him, a new perspective to view and they're so pissed about it. They don't even want to beat him up anymore. They lay awake at night thinking about him. They're so mad. They're feral.

The kids are just like "wow, our dads are dumb. We should help!"

Cue a series of absolutely wild shenanigans, and Buggy is just. So confused. Then so done. So tired. He needs a nap. Maybe an energy drink. Maybe both at once.

S-Hawk and S-Croco makes sense to bond with their adult counterparts or come to a mutual tolerance of each other. The seraphim children really REALLY love Buggy because he has that SAFE energy for kids. I like that headcanon that he’s really good with kiddos, indeed he became the person for children that he wanted when he was little bug.

Buggy must be scared of interacting with kids after becoming one of the Emperor of the Sea. Yeah, Buggy could be a ringmaster and other performers in a circus back in the East Blue.

Headcanon: Buggy can make the greatest balloon animals because why not?

Mihawk going to check on the boys and find Buggy beat him to it, the clown hugging them both and calming them both. Birdie and Angel (holy stars what cute nicknames, let me guess all three have to come to a decision on what S-Croco and S-Hawk’s names will truly be and the seraphims must agree on them) Then Buggy starts singing to them! Mihawk’s heart!

Love One Piece having different languages than the common one… Maybe the language that the clown is singing in the Wado’s original language! Or maybe Roger or another Roger Pirate could speak another language and that’s what Buggy is singing in? IDK

Crocodile facing a similar situation, but it’s happier and more fun because the kids and Buggy are making treats (When you wrote that Crocodile having seen Buggy more than a couple times and to Crocodile it was a horrifying notion… does that mean Crocodile was looking for Buggy!!!) That mafia boss finding Buggy in the kitchen with the children. Awwwwwwwwww

It’s chaotic fun for Buggy and the seraphims, and they are making dark chocolate and red velvet cake! That’s so fucking cute! Squealing and wanting to kick my feet in the air of how cute the imagines I see are!!! Buggy walking them through piping the best he can, telling them that their mistakes don’t matter, and the cake still looks amazing. Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

How Angel (love the headband decorated with frogs, you know that was once Buggy’s headbands or Buggy bought it for him) shocks both adults because he calls Crocodile - Father, Mihawk - Papa, and Buggy - Mama Bug! (I don't think it's only because Angel called Buggy - Mama) So, does Birdie call Mihawk - Father and Crocodile - Papa?

Crocodile thinking Buggy taught him to do that, but Buggy is as confused Crocodile is (Calling the Seraphim Gumdrop, that’s a cute nickname) Birdie agreeing with his brother about calling Buggy - Mama Bug and they learned it from books. (I read like Birdie was the one saying it, so Papa Crocodile is the big dragon, Father Mihawk being the king and Mama Buggy as the queen)

Buggy being emotional about this is so him. Crocodile’s heart thumping against his chest while Buggy is pressing a kiss on their foreheads. Going back to making the cake with Angel and Birdie as Crocodile leaves the kitchen, probably going to where Mihawk is.

Love that the seraphims are accidentally-on-purpose matchmakers and deciding the cross leaders are their parents. Love how Mihawk and Crocodile are anger that they are falling for the clown. Love that those two are lying awake and thinking about Buggy.

The kids thinking their dada are dumb and think everything will be well if they help. In the end everything was fine… but in the middle? Holy stars what did those two do? Yeah, Buggy will be needing bot an energy drink and a nap, so confused and done with what’s happening.

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